


Destiny

by Apple_Bottom_Beans, DanielVanDerLinde



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: 2009, Adventure & Romance, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Romance, Comfort/Angst, Drama & Romance, Emotional, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Constipation, Emotionally Repressed, Emotions, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Friendship/Love, New York City, Romance, Smut, Time Travel, Time Travel Fix-It
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-26
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-03 06:13:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 32,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24380032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Apple_Bottom_Beans/pseuds/Apple_Bottom_Beans, https://archiveofourown.org/users/DanielVanDerLinde/pseuds/DanielVanDerLinde
Summary: Following the massacre in Blackwater and amidst a snowstorm, Dutch van der Linde and Susan Grimshaw mysteriously vanish. The pair appear in New York City (2009) and set out to find their way back to 1899. Quite literally out of time in this strange century, the twosome find comfort in each other, rekindling their flame along the way.**Note: explicit themes begin in chapter 5.
Relationships: Susan Grimshaw/Dutch van der Linde
Comments: 15
Kudos: 32





	1. The Fall

Blackwater.

That place--that bloodbath--that failure left a foul taste in Dutch van der Linde's mouth.

Micah Bell had instigated and encouraged robbing the boat that was full of bank notes; $150,000 to be exact. The plan had been perfect. It was supposed to be easy.

The Van der Linde gang had gotten admission to the money reasonably straightforwardly.

Conversely, the Pinkerton Detective Agency and the Blackwater Police Department showed up too fast. A violent gunfight ensued. The gang was overwhelmed; John Marston, Mac and Davey Callander, and Jenny Kirk had all been shot.

_Where the hell was Sean?_

Ultimately, it was an unwinnable situation.

Desperate times required desperate measures...

Van der Linde had to do something to ensure that some of them survived.

Ultimately, Dutch murdered a young woman and stashed the money in the city of Blackwater. Then, the gang fled north into a vicious snowstorm through the mountains of Ambarino. The frantic rush of escaping certain death and capture in Blackwater matured into an eerie silence that settled amongst the surviving gang members as they continued on.

As the caravan pushed through the freezing whiteout, Jenny Kirk had succumbed to her wounds.

The Van der Linde gang's streak of tragic luck was sustained when a wagon’s wheel broke off with a loud crack of wood and rolled away...

The blizzard made it difficult to see a foot in front of their faces. Without hesitation, the gang’s arbiter climbed down and went in search of the wheel.

Wanting to resolve the situation as quickly as possible, their leader followed as he knew Davey would not last much longer in this cold, but if they could just get him inside and warm soon rather than later, he might recover. He told himself that, but he knew better. Still, he needed to get his remaining folks out of the harsh cold or more of them would perish.

That wouldn't do.

Miss Grimshaw crept down to lower area in the road and called out. “I think I see it.”

Dutch cursed and held out his arm in front of his face while he trudged through the snow after Miss Grimshaw. As he pushed onward, the snow and icy wind continued to whip at his exposed flesh. The harsh blizzard made it nearly impossible for him to see let alone walk. He hoped that they might find the stray wagon wheel quickly and continue on.

“Susan!” Dutch shouted to her. “Any luck?”

Slowly, Dutch kept walking further into the storm. He bundled his hands over his mouth trying to warm them, but had little to no luck. Then, he tilted the brim of his hat down in an attempt to keep the snow out of his eyes and face.

What a mess this was...

Miss Grimshaw took each step with a careful precision, avoiding any ice patches the best she could. She’d encountered worse storms, but never under such dire circumstances. 

“Over here! I think it’s jus’ ahead of me.”

Miss Grimshaw blindly reached forward to try and feel for the wheel. When her hand connected with nothing, she rewrapped her arms around herself and searched with her foot. After another step forward, she tried again.

“I thought it went this way but--well, I can’t see a damn thing!”

Her lantern hung loosely from one hand, but it did nothing to improve her vision.

Dutch let out a sigh as he found his way to her. He was beginning to worry about the people back in the caravan, freezing to death. They needed resolve this before it was too late.

“We need to hurry up and find this goddamn wheel, otherwise..." He hesitated. He didn’t even want those thoughts to cross his mind. The gang couldn’t afford to lose anyone else. Especially, not now.

Dutch went further ahead into the blizzard before spotting something that looked round. It could be the missing wheel, but it could be anything else.

Miss Grimshaw slowly made her way towards the sound of Dutch’s voice, holding up her lamp in a last ditch effort to see. 

“Let’s worry about that wheel. It’s all we can control at the moment.”

She believed that focusing on what could go wrong would make things go wrong.

Not expecting him to be that close, Miss Grimshaw startled when she reached Dutch. She continued her previous methods of searching until her foot dislodged a rock. Pebbles rolled and clattered, falling from the cliff's edge. 

Miss Grimshaw took a quick step back. 

The woman’s boot connected with ice. 

She’d desperately grasped at Dutch’s arm for stability, but by then she’d already fallen too far and only pulled him along.

Dutch was astonished when he suddenly felt himself lurch forward and off the dark cliff face. A small sound slipped from his lips as he felt the tug of Miss Grimshaw’s grip on his arm, pulling him with her into the dark depths below.

In an immediate moment, Dutch took it upon himself to reposition the woman in his arms on top of his torso so she may be spared any long lasting injuries from the harsh fall. Dutch’s mind was racing. Visions of the gang, and what would happen to Susan and himself when they hit the ground flashed before his eyes.

Hopefully, it wouldn’t wound and mangle their bodies. Perhaps, they would be fortunate enough to die from impact.

Wind and snow rushed around the pair as they continued to fall.

Dutch screwed his eyes shut and held Miss Grimshaw tightly to him.

Falling felt like an eternity.

Eternity felt like the end.


	2. We're Not In Kansas Anymore

Similarly to the force of bowling balls and with a grace like John Marston floundering around in a lake like a half dead fish, the pair crashed and tumbled through a stack of boxes, which caused said boxes to scatter in various directions. Thankfully, they were full of something light and forgiving.

Miss Grimshaw sat up, gasping for air and looking around wildly as if expecting the flames of Hell. 

She didn’t understand. If this was Hell, why was it still cold? Or maybe that was the torturous part everyone spoke of...

It certainly wasn't Heaven. That much she could deduce from the smell of fish and salt water--something she’d only ever smelt twice.

It took Dutch a moment to get his wits back about him. He shook his head and rubbed at his chest--probably strained something.

Van der Linde's mind was running a million miles a minute. The new sounds that bombarded his ears only added to his confusion.

Had they fallen into some animal’s den? Why wasn’t it snowing? Where was the caravan? So many questions ran through his mind. He was unable to focus on any of them.

When Dutch attempted to stand, his joints cracked and popped. He cursed under his breath. He loathed those sounds as they reminded him that his youth was continuously fading...

As the outlaw leader got to his feet, he regarded all of the cardboard boxes lying around. His assumption was that they were in some sort of warehouse. However, he could not figure out the roaring noises coming from beyond the space they had fallen into. Various horn sounds could be heard. Perhaps, they had landed in the middle of a circus show? An awful and obnoxious sounding one at that..

Miss Grimshaw got to her feet fairly quickly and studied her environment. It looked like a warehouse, but what were the contraptions hanging from the ceiling? She’d never seen anything like those anywhere, let alone in a warehouse. 

The cacophonous symphony outside finally caught Miss Grimshaw's attention. She drifted to a window and did her best to peer out of it.

“I think we’re dead,” Her voice was very flat, hiding her inner fear of death. But if they’re already dead, there’s nothing to fear. Except maybe the horseless carriages outside.

Dutch scoffed at the thought of being dead. He locked his eyes onto Miss Grimshaw and walked to her location. As he moved, he was cautious as to not crush anymore of the boxes they landed on.

Before Dutch spoke, he looked out the window for himself. He was taken aback by the sight.

“Where do you think we are? Any idea?” Dutch asked as he regarded the horseless wagons, big buildings... In his younger days, Dutch had been to large cities, but he had never seen anything quite like this.

“Some city. Probably East, I don’t know,” Miss Grimshaw wiped the window with her sleeve for a better look. 

Truthfully, she’d never gone farther east than Tennessee and that was fine with her. Big cities and their factories; it was very unappealing. In her youth, girls would always talk about their experiences visiting the city and left nothing to envy. 

“How could they build that high if we aren’t dead?” She asked.

Dutch sighed. He did not know where they were, but he knew where they weren't.

After a few more moments of consideration, Dutch couldn't take the unknown any longer. He adjusted his hat and paced to the nearest door, motioning for Miss Grimshaw to follow.

“I ain’t too sure, but it’s no use just standin’ around wonderin’."

Miss Grimshaw hurried over to follow. She didn’t know what to feel about this whole situation. It felt like a nightmare that started calm and quickly, but went downhill from there.

Maybe they just hit their heads and were dreaming...

She shook her head at the thoughts. It’d be best to stay in the moment.

Dutch hesitated before opening the door. He needed information--at least a clue of their whereabouts. He opened the door. His eyes were met with sun and the absolutely horrid smell of modernization. He gave a few odd glances at the people walking in the streets. They returned the odd looks he had given them.

Utterly, Dutch was confused by all of what looked to be strings and wire coming out of people's ears and hooked into some kind of device that everyone seemed to have. Nothing he had ever read, even his beloved Evelyn Miller, had ever prepared him for this. Hell, he was so bewildered, he couldn't even think straight.

“Miss Grimshaw," he prompted her. "If we are plannin’ to get back to the caravan, we need to figure out where the hell we are. Figure I will ask around about some things... What do you think?” He looked back to her, hoping she’d know what to do in a situation like this.

Miss Grimshaw watched the passerby uneasily.

“Why don’t we check the newspaper? I’m sure there’s a paperboy somewhere.”

She didn’t really understand anything that was happening as it was all beyond her, but at the least they can try to figure out where they were. 

A paper might answer most of the questions they had. Or so she hoped.

“Asking these people directly might not be such a good idea. They may just laugh. I mean, you’ve seen how people treat foreigners...” She paused, thinking of another solution. “Why don’t we check the newspaper? I’m sure there’s a paperboy somewhere.” She didn’t really understand anything that was happening. It was all beyond her, but at the least they could try to figure out where they were. A paper might answer most questions they have. Or so she hoped.

"You ain't wrong. Look what they did to the natives!" Dutch scoffed. He glanced around for a moment. "We ain't gonna exactly blend in here."

“Clearly not! Well--you might. Without your coat you’re dressed like some of these people...somewhat different though. We won’t fit in.” Miss Grimshaw sighed, putting her hands on her hips. “Let’s find a paperboy. The paper will give us a place and date...we need the date because I’m not too sure we’re in 1899."

"All right. All right." Dutch shook his head and eyed the towering structures and automation in the street. "That seems to be reasonable." He began to walk.

"You got any change, Miss Grimshaw?" he asked after a moment.

Miss Grimshaw laughed as she followed, but soon paused her laughter, “Oh, you’re serious. No, I don’t have any change. I had a dollar but...Blackwater...”

"That won't help us now." Dutch frowned for a moment at the mention of Blackwater. "I'll think of something."

“You always do.”

Miss Grimshaw tried her best not to stare at people as they passed. Manners had always been important to her but these people... They were completely different than anyone she’d ever known. She shook her head and focused on the conversation at hand.

“I only ever had one way of making money besides robbing, and I doubt I’d be any good at it now...or if that’s even something they do here.. but I’m too old,” Miss Grimshaw shook her head as she internally cursed herself for giving such useless information.

"Ain't no need for such thoughts..." Dutch let his words trail off as her comment made him reminisce. He shrugged the thoughts away as soon as they appeared.

The gears in his head started to turn as he eyed the strangely dressed passerby. Specifically, he was eyeing an elegantly dressed man in a suit a few paces ahead of them. A smile spread across his face. "Oh, Susan, I've got a plan. Don't you worry."

“You’ve always got a--ohh...” Miss Grimshaw trailed off as his plan dawned on her. Then she started thinking. “Are you going to sell your current clothes or trade them with him?”

"The way I'm figurin' we got two choices." He lowered his voice and offered her his arm.

Miss Grimshaw took his arm, raising a brow at his statement. She was sure the options weren’t the ones she’d offered.

"I'm thinkin', miss, that we either distract him and one of us lifts his wallet from his back pocket or we lure him down an alleyway and..." Dutch glanced at her seriously.

“I’ve always been a good thief.” Miss Grimshaw looked up at Dutch, smirking. It had been a long time since she’d gotten to steal; it was something she always enjoyed.

"Ain't truer words been spoken!" He mirrored her smirk as they continued walking, arm in arm, amongst the bustling people. "See that yellow booth over there just across the way? I'll meet you there after I've have a few words with him."

“That sounds like a mighty fine plan.”

"Oh, but it is..." He pulled his arm from her and walked ahead, matching the pace of the man--his target.

Suddenly, the group of people they were following stopped. Dutch all but ran into the man, who turned to him angrily. The man's suit was soiled with what Dutch recognized as the smell of coffee. A strange rectangular object was in his opposite hand.

"You'll have to excuse me, sir..." Dutch began to spin his yarn.

Staring in awe at the structure to her right, Miss Grimshaw walked right past the men. Or so it seemed. She slipped the wallet into her pocket and walked on to the yellow booth, continuing to take in the sights and buildings.

"...I hope your day improves, friend," Dutch called over his shoulder to the flustered man as he quickly made his way to the rendezvous point. He couldn't help but smile as he locked eyes with Susan as he approached.

Susan’s mischievous smirk resumed when she met his stare. She held the wallet up between two fingers with one eyebrow raised in amusement.

"Miss Grimshaw, you are a fine woman! A fine woman indeed!" He stopped to stand in front of her with his arms crossed. "Go on." He urged. "What's he got for us?"

Susan chuckled and opened the wallet and paused. She handed a good amount of money to Dutch then pulled out a strange looking blue card. “What is this?”

"I don't know...give me that and the wallet--better hang onto it." He thumbed through the money and his eyes blew wide. "There's nearly three hundred dollars here!"

“Good Lord--and he was jus’...jus’ carryin’ it around like it’s nothing?” Miss Grimshaw tucked the card back into the wallet and handed it to Dutch. The whole situation was extremely confusing.

Dutch shook his head and stuffed the money and wallet into his coat pockets. "Wait here." He didn't wait for her reply and walked up to the yellow booth. There were magazines and newspapers on the shelving. Briefly, Dutch interacted with a young man and purchased a paper for seventy-five cents.

As Dutch turned away, he glanced at the date on the paper and nearly lost his bearing and footing on the curb. He shook his head, quickly paced back to Susan, and held the paper out to her.

"You won't believe it..." Dutch almost chuckled. "It ain't where are we. It's _when_ are we."

“I’m still holding on to my theory about this being Hell. But...’when’ are we...?” Miss Grimshaw wasn’t sure she wanted the answer, but it could only help their situation.

"It ain't Hell... Look for yourself." He gestured for her to take the paper, again.

Miss Grimshaw hesitantly took the paper--not breaking eye contact for a moment, trying to avoid looking at the date, but she can’t wait forever. She turned the paper over in her hands and read.

“That...” She read it again and again and again, wishing she could pass it off as a misprint because how could this be humanly possible? “How? W-why? Why are we here...?” Miss Grimshaw trailed off and dropped down onto a bench, resigned. “I really think this is Hell.”

"Now, I know it ain't ideal..." Dutch sat down next to her and wrapped an arm around her shoulders to comfort not just her but himself. "Hard to believe...but just look around! This is _it_. The civilization, the modernization...I read a book about it recently; Planes, Trains, and Automobiles, I believe! The future and we are here. You and me are here!" He gestured dramatically with his other hand. "This ain't 1899, Susan! It is 2009!" He pinches her on the arm and grins.

Miss Grimshaw smiled nervously, trying her best to push away the doubts and concerns. It was all too much. But...Dutch is sure. And as long as he’s sure, everything will be okay. Always is. “What do we do here? Uh, in the.. in the future, I mean. We have to get back.”

"Don't think I ain't thinking about them and getting back, but right now we need food and shelter..." He regarded the city with its buildings, cars, and lights. "'Course some new clothing...like you said, without my coat, I can blend in, but we'll have to do something about that dress of yours. Maybe a different hairstyle, too. I think this feller had enough to sustain us until we figure out something more...stable."

“I don’t even know how a woman is supposed to dress around here. No one is similar except the men in suits. And we have to find the shops and.. salon..” Clothes, is a change she can handle. But hair? It’d been years since her last hairstyle. She used to make it nice and neat, but that eventually became a hassle and so the pompadour became her new look. “In a big city like this, we should be able to find a hotel just about anywhere.”

Dutch sensed her turmoil. "The salon and that...that's a problem for tomorrow then. We could go by that yellow stall and I could purchase one of them magazines with a woman on it--saw a few." He stood and stretched. "And then...we can find us a room..." He couldn't help the way his mouth smiled at the thought. He offered her his hand.

“What are you smilin’ at?” Miss Grimshaw took his hand and stood, too. “And the women in those magazines are more showy than a drunken harlot on a Sunday afternoon. I saw them while I was walking past.”

Dutch ignored her comment about the magazines and the scandalous women in them.

"I was thinking, Miss Grimshaw, just thinking on how things use to..." He caught himself and shook his head--thought better of it. He was being strange. He knew that.

Before Dutch let go though, he held her hand for a moment and felt her fingers and palm in his hand--savored it--cataloged this moment in his mind; they were rough hands of a hardworking woman. He studied her her face, really looked at her for the first time in a long time. Without the distraction of camp and Molly, she looked superior somehow; refined and still beautiful with more character and years of a hard life on the run having weathered her complexion. He blamed himself. It ain't been easy.

"Times have changed," Dutch said as they link arms again. "This could be an opportunity..."

“An opportunity for....?” Miss Grimshaw waited for him to finish his thought, a light blush creeping up her neck. She hadn’t missed his lingering touch and...stare. She turned her head to hide her scarring from view. If Susan had to be stared at, she’d rather her scar weren’t seen.

"An opportunity for us!" Dutch exclaimed as they began to walk. "For us to...really do something...profound!" Dutch found it hard to form a coherent sentence as his mind distracted him. He didn't miss the blush in her cheeks either. He knew he didn't deserve her loyalty and confidence. However, he did his best to reassure her and himself. "There's gotta be a way back, Susan...we'll find it. We just need to have--"

“Faith. I know. And you know I’ve always had faith in you, Dutch, and I will continue,” Susan brushed off the oddness of his prior sentences. He’s probably just focused on figuring this situation out.

"Thank you," Dutch said and meant it. He paused for a moment. "You really don't want me to buy those magazines? It think it would be a good idea in closing the gap on what is it...100 years?"

“110... I suppose they might be a good idea. But I certainly won’t base any look off of them.”

He chuckled at her comment. "I ain't expectin' nor am I asking you to."

“Well.. good. Because they are ridiculous,” Miss Grimshaw tilted her chin in slight, unsure defiance. “I mean, really, do they have to be so.. so..” She gestured vaguely, unsure where she was going with this.

"Revealing?" Dutch raised an eyebrow at her. "I'm sure there's...look there." He pointed with his free hand. "See that woman there? The one with the yellow blouse and blue pants?"

“Well... I suppose that isn’t too bad...but...pants? I’ve never worn a pair.”

"Look around..." Dutch gestured with his free arm again. "Either that or one of these dresses that barely cover their--"

Susan cut him off, speaking quickly. “I’ll wear the pants.” She reddened with embarrassment.

"Glad that's settled." He chuckled.

They stop by the same booth and Dutch picked about three magazines of varying topics. He even asked the young man to point him in the direction of a hotel.

Susan waited, flipping through a few of the magazines while Dutch spoke to the clerk. She slipped a magazine into her coat while neither were looking and continued about her business.

"Ready?" Dutch touched her elbow.

Susan looked up at him and nodded, grabbing his arm again. It was becoming habit. “Where do we go now?”

"That way." Dutch starts off in _that_ direction. "Shopping or call it a night?"

“I think we can get a bit of shopping done before we call it.”

"All right." They walked off toward the clothing store that the clerk had talked about briefly. 

"What do you think...about all this?" Dutch continued to take in his steel and concrete surroundings.

“I’ve been trying to avoid that thought, but I don’t know. I’ve never been in a city and I don’t know how to make sense of any of it. It’s terrible with all the loudness, but it’s beautiful, in a sense...”

"Beautiful?" In his laughter and astonishment, Dutch nearly choked on the word. "I suppose you're right. Maybe this mangled jungle ain't so ugly after all..." They walked on.

Susan narrowed her eyes in annoyance. She didn’t like being laughed at.

“It is. It’s chaotic and loud--and yes it smells--but the buildings. Someone put thought into making them look nice. And imagine the views from the tops of those buildings.”

"Hmmm..." Dutch considered for a moment. "Up that high and with a view, I suppose it could be romantic."

“I suppose so.”

Susan hadn’t thought about that. She’d been thinking about the sunsets over the water.

“Would a sunset in the city look as good as one back--back home?” She wasn’t sure what to call where they came from.

"Home..." Dutch hums the word. "Depends on if all these light go out or not." He smiled. "We're almost there. The shop on your right. Want me to come with or do you want to go on your own?"

“Aw, Dutch, ain’t you heard? The city don’t sleep at night.” Susan chuckled. She glanced over at the shop, then back to Dutch.

“Come with?”

"Of course, my dear."

“I ain’t too sure I want to be roamin’ this place alone.”

Susan entered the shop, looking around at the clothes on racks and mannequins.

"I understand that..." Dutch wandered a few feet away and eyed the price tags. "Seems things are more expensive in this century. $19.95 for a pair of jeans," he whispered.

“What? If they have machines making everything, why the high price? There’s no workers to pay.”

Susan thumbed through some of the shirts. She looked up and made a beeline for the other side of the shop, picking up the jeans and blouse from the catalogue--only, the blouse was red.

“This’ll do. This’ll do jus’ fine.”

"Different times...different measures...I guess." Dutch lingered near and paid the cashier. "You want to change now or later?"

“I suppose later. I’ll try it at the hotel.”

Susan re-folded the clothes and put them in the bag the cashier handed her. She raised a brow at the material of the bag but brushed it off. _Different times._

"Red, hm?" Dutch prompted as they walked arm in arm toward the hotel.

The light had begun to fade. The streetlights turned on.

“I like red.” Susan shrugged, watching as the city came to life around them. “I told you it’s beautiful.”

"I suppose you're right." Dutch looked at the large lighted signs, and decorated buildings.

The pink color at the skyline and the silhouetted buildings... It was a sight to behold. Something...so new and spectacular and wonderful and he felt the overwhelming need to--

"To experience this with...you is..." Dutch caught himself. Oh, he tried to. He was losing the battle again. After their recent and near brush with death, Dutch felt different; strange even.

"...something else..." His gaze wandered to the woman on his arm for a moment and then back to the sights once more.

Almost instantaneously, bright red crept up Susan’s neck. “Why, Dutch van der Linde, are you trying to flirt?”She tried to play it off, tried to tease him, but she wasn’t doing any better. It was by pure luck that her sentence was fluent.

"I'm afraid I'm at a loss," Dutch admitted. He couldn't look at her then. "Maybe this ain't such a bad thing..." Before he continued to speak, he stopped their walking and held her firmly by her shoulders forcing her to look at him.

"Maybe this ain't such a bad thing that we are here. Maybe the universe is trying to tell us something! There ain't no law or Pinkertons after us. My face ain't plastered across the state. I know it's early, and Hosea knows I'm crazy, but this could be a new start for us..." He let his voice trail off. He paced a bit further from her and stared at the darkening sky. "Maybe I'm a fool, Susan. Tell me, am I a fool?"

Susan stayed where she stood, cemented to the ground. At his last inquiry she moved to stand beside him.

“I don’t think so...an’...well, maybe you’re right...but...what about my girls? The boys? And...Miss O’Shea...“

"I..." He started but faltered. "I was gonna say that they would be fine without us, but...110 years..."

“But they’d be dead by now...” Susan’s eyes dropped to the floor.

Dutch grabbed her hand then. "We will find a way. We will. I ain't figured out a plan just yet, but we will find a way _together_. I just need time. We'll get your girls back and the boys." He looked at her then with furrowed brow and squeezed her hand.

Susan exhaled slowly, nodding. “Okay...” Her voice cracked, and she didn’t look up, but there was hope. She believed they can do it. Susan squeezed his hand tightly.

Dutch hummed in agreement. "Do you still trust me?" He already knew the answer, but he sought reassure anyway.

“I never stopped.”

Abruptly, Dutch pulled her into an embrace. "You've always been so good to me," he said quietly as he buried his face in her shoulder. The sudden grief of losing his family was almost too much. "I promise we will find a way back to them."

Susan nodded, holding him tightly. She saw his words as truth because they were the only thing she knew she could rely on. But that didn’t make it hurt any less. She sniffled and nodded again. “I know. I know, Dutch...”

After a moment, he peeled himself from her, but kept her hand laced in his. "Do you think God did this?" Dutch voiced as they continued their walk in the direction of the hotel.

“Somebody did it. So, probably. God does like his tricks.”

"But why?" Dutch was perplexed--truly troubled. "Why me? Why you--us? Why now? I don't mean for you to try and answer this, dear...just thinking..." He continued to mumble under his breath.

“Maybe...like you were sayin’...destiny an’ such...the universe speaking to us..” While Susan was by no means dumb, thinking was never her strong suit. She dealt in facts, reasoning, practicality.

"Destiny." Dutch said the word slowly; dragging out the "e" and "i" sound as he contemplated and looked over at Susan, again.

Susan raised a brow and looked over at him. “You okay there, Dutch?”

"I told you I was crazy." He frowns and thinks for a moment. "It's been a long year already and we lost some folks, but you and me, we'll be ok. I believe that..." After a few more strides... "This looks to be the place."

“I think you’re anything but,” Susan looked over. “Hotels certainly have changed a lot, too.”

"It's good to know you have faith in me." He nods in agreement and regards the hotel. "Before I make the reservation...Miss Grimshaw, we don't exactly have a lot of money right now...this moment...by this centuries standards..." He shifted on his feet. He hadn't felt like this in a long time. Nervous. He was nervous.

“I know. Go ahead, I don’t mind.” Susan hid her redness well, looking around at the decorations as if interested in them.

"I won't do nothing improper," he assured her as he moved away to speak to the front desk man.

“O-oh, I--“ Susan’s face flushed a bright red to match her shirt. She hadn’t been thinking in that way--and if she had, she won’t admit it. She cleared her throat and followed Dutch.

"Good evening, one room," Dutch told the man.

The desk man informed Dutch that he cannot pay with cash and that the hotel requires a card on file, nothing will be charged until they check out and leave. He looked to Susan. "A card," he mumbles

Susan quickly gestured to the wallet. “The card. Use the card.” She whispered hastily.

"Right." He rifled through the wallet and found the blue card. He handed it to the man who eyed him oddly.

"You got ID?"

"Of course, my good man." Dutch flipped to the card with the man's name and picture and showed in to the desk guy. The man slid the card through something and handed it back. He gave him a similar card and told him it is the door key.

Susan quickly pulled Dutch away from the desk, heading towards--well, she doesn’t know where. There’s an up sign. “I don’t like the look he gave you. He’s got suspicions.”

"We won't stay here too long." Dutch followed Susan as she leads.

“Good. I’d hate to wind up in jail after not even a day of being here,” Susan pulled him into some small room, immediately pausing. “Is this an elevator? I read about these!”

"Ain't nobody going to jail." He scoffs. "Yes...I suppose it is." He stiffened at the close proximity. "Which floor?" He handed her the room key.

“Um...” Susan looked the card over. “It doesn’t say...he didn’t tell you?”

"399." Dutch gave her a strange look. "I haven't slept in 3 days," he admitted.

“You’re telling me...I didn’t think any of you were coming back from that job...but you’re safe now. If we can ever find this room, you can sleep..” Susan looked for the right button but...the numbers didn’t go that high. “I think that’s the room.”

"Number 3 for the floor," Dutch reasoned and pushed the button. "If Arthur and Hosea had been there--" He startled when the thing moved.

Susan clung to Dutch’s arm for stability. “It wouldn’t have gone any better...I thought you were goin’ to go with them, but Micah got you on about that boat...”

"It was supposed to be easy...on and off...Micah said..." Dutch relived the pull of his finger on the trigger and the shot that rang out. He wouldn't tell her that he had shot a girl in cold blood, like he always preached not to. "Mistakes were made."

“But not like that...you’d never made mistakes like that before. What got into you?”

"It didn't go to plan." He raked his hand across his face. "There were too many Pinkertons. They were on us like they knew we were coming! Mac and Davey got shot...Sean got captured, I think. John got shot. And Jenny...she..." He sighed as the machine lurched to a stop and the doors opened. "Shall we?"

Susan nodded quietly, walking out ahead of him. “Jenny deserved so much more.. they all did...”

He didn't say anything more. It was taking everything in him to keep his rage controlled. He moved past her and walked down the hall quickly, putting some space between them. He found the room easily enough. He leaned with his back and head against the door, waiting.

Susan’s somber mood quickly turned angry as he put distance between them. She gave him the card and folded her arms across her chest. As furious as she was, Susan had no problem not saying anything.

He slipped the card through the slot twice as he saw the desk man do with the other card. Somehow it clicked and a green light lit up. "After you." He held the door open for Susan.

Susan entered, looking around. It was certainly different than she was used to--which wasn't saying much, since she’s used to sleeping between two complete fools on a pallet out in the open. She set her bag down.

"This is..." Dutch cataloged the dresser, night stand, lamps, desk, chair, and bed. There's just something about this experience and Susan standing in the darkness that he wants to fuse it to his mind forever. This is important.

"Something..." His thoughts of Blackwater dissipated as he walked further into the room and turned one of the lamps which gave off enough light for him to only just see what he was doing, but not enough for much else--similar to a campfire's glow. He walked into a small room, returned, and announced the indoor plumbing with a smile on his lips. It is a wonderfully convenient world thus far.

Somewhat settled in his mind, he took off his winter coat and laid it over the chair along with his gun belt and jacket. He turned and looked at Susan in the dim light as he untied his bandana from his neck and set it aside, too. Next, he kicked off his boots with a sigh. They each made a thud on the floor.

Next, Dutch removed his black vest, undid the buttons on his white collar shirt, and set it aside as well. He stood there bare-chested, fussing with his discarded clothing, only wearing pants...it ain't like she hadn't seen him in less. He tried to catch Susan's eye as he picked up his boots and set them neatly near the bed. He knew she wasn't happy and maybe even grieving. That's his fault to. Everything was. Lately.

"Miss Grimshaw," he prompted her. "We'll get through this...I've gotten us through worse." He absentmindedly rubbed a hand on his sore pectoral. He must have twisted funny during the fall--maybe a strain. He'd been at peace then as they fell...that it would be her who walked away from it. It was her that--

“Oh, dear--“ Susan quickly turned away, red as a tomato. She’d seen it all before--and more--but something about the dim lights and the fancy room...and he knew just what a tease he was being. She chanced a glance, biting her lip slightly. Susan shook her head and tried to carry her anger but it just wasn’t sticking. She couldn’t even focus on the topic at hand. “Yes...you’ve...gotten us through a lot..."

"I'll get us through this," he said with a conviction he didn't have the energy for. Perhaps, he meant to convince himself as much as her. "It will be ok, Miss Grimshaw. Everything will work out as I have planned. You and I--we will be ok."

Distracted by his thoughts and overwhelmed by fatigue, Dutch sighed and flopped down ungracefully onto the bed and stared at the ceiling. Everything felt so surreal and yet he felt this sense of peace, again. He wouldn't let himself think of his gang and how he was a man quite literally out of time, but with all the time in the world it seemed. But he wasn't alone.

"Coming to bed?" His tone of voice and words surprised him. Cherry finally tinged his cheeks that night. He hadn't thought he'd ever ask her that, again.

Susan startled slightly, having completely forgotten about getting sleep. She removed her coat and boots, setting them on the dresser. She hesitantly went over and moved back the covers, climbing into bed. The softness and warmth of the bed surprised her. So used to sleeping on a pallet or even the floor, she had forgotten what a bed was like. Susan sighed, content. She glanced over at Dutch

Feeling her eyes on him, he turned his head toward her. He smiled at her as he rested his hands on his chest. "If you ain't comfortable in all that, my shirt's on the chair."

“Easy there, cowboy.” Susan patted Dutch’s arm and turned away, pulling the blankets up to her shoulders. “Get some sleep and quit fantasizin’.” She liked to tease him. If she has to be flustered, he had to have it worse.

"I'm just trying to be a gentleman," he drawled. His words were followed by a yawn. He moved so he was underneath the covers, but continued to stare at the ceiling. "Good night, Susan."

“Whatever you say.” Susan chuckled lightly, closing her eyes and burying her face in a pillow.

"Whatever I say..." He breathed and stared at the ceiling again, reflecting on what lead up to this point; the botched Blackwater job, the path and blizzard in the mountains, Miss Grimshaw pulling him after her and falling onto nothing but boxes 110 years later--but his wandering mind was soon lulled to sleep by Susan's even breathing.

Who knew what awaited them tomorrow...

A new century.

A new opportunity.

A new destiny.


	3. I'd Be Honored

It was morning.

Being the first to wake, Susan lifted her head. Though, whether or not that this was some type of dream was still up for debate. Once she noticed who she’d cuddled up to in the night, the sleepy woman leaned more towards the dream side. Even with _that_ realization, she didn’t move. She stayed that way.

At the smallest notion of movement, Dutch opened his eyes and glanced down. The unexpected warmth of a body against his own made his heart stutter. He laid on his back with his arm around _her_ , holding her close. He closed his eyes again; savoring the moment for what it was.

_Peace._

Susan contemplated going back to sleep and staying like this, but they had things to do. Thusly, sleep was off the table, but lingering wasn’t. She moved her hand to rest on his bare chest, and her head laid on his shoulder.

"Look. At. Us." Dutch punctuated each word for emphasis. He kept his eyes closed.

Honestly, it felt like Dutch needed one hundred and ten years worth of sleep. However, _her_ hand was on his chest and _her_ head on his shoulder. Moreover, his mind was betraying him, again. He chuckled. It was a rich and deep sound as it vibrated through his chest.

Having failed to notice that _he_ was awake, Susan startled. Regretfully, she withdrew.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what’s gotten into me,” Susan said as she pulled away.

"Don't." Dutch sat up quickly and caught her arm. "Don't apologize. Ain't nothing improper happened," he assured her.

“I know, I jus'...I crossed a line.” Susan sat against the headboard. She wished to go back to being held, but her doubts pushed her to get up and get ready for the day. So, she grabbed her new clothes and headed for the bathroom.

“I’m going to shower,” Susan told him.

"Ok," was all Dutch could manage. As Susan disappeared from view, Dutch stood and stretched. He sighed and rubbed the sleep from his eyes.

"What are you doin'?" Dutch mumbled to himself as he made his way to the mirror and ran his hands over his stubbled cheeks. A few more days of this and he'd have a beard.

After hearing the water of the shower running, Dutch decided he'd attempt to indulge in modern convenience, too.

While Dutch waited for Susan, he rifled through the furniture. He found a bible and some coffee. It took him a long and frustrating minute, but he figured how to use the electric coffee maker.

Once triumphant, Dutch settled himself in the chair with coffee and newspaper in hand. He was sure to set aside a second cup for Susan.

Eventually, Susan finished her shower. She felt more relaxed than she’d been in a long time--and certainly cleaner, too. She walked out of the bathroom with her new clothes on and her hair wrapped in a towel. The clothes felt odd, being that she’d never worn this type of material before, but it was odd in a good way—the pants especially. They fit well and were very comfortable indeed.

Clothing aside, she smelled coffee.

"There you are! A fine and _modern_ looking woman indeed!" Dutch exclaimed as he set the paper aside and stood.

Dutch was nearly astonished as he had never seen her like _this_ before. The jeans and the red blouse fit her nicely; accentuated her curves in all the right places. Even with her hair wrapped upon her head, he found himself smiling and blushing, again.

"For you," he purred as he handed her a cup of coffee.

Susan laughed and waved him off. “You’re a silver-tongued flatterer, no doubt about it. Now--thank you.”

Susan was close to demanding coffee when he handed her the cup. She took a sip and sighed happily, savoring the caffeine.

“I miss coffee,” she said.

"I miss you." The words slipped from his mouth and he desperately wanted to take them back. "I—I..." He stammered and made a move to walk past her.

_Goddamn! Hosea was right. He was really losing it._

Susan choked on her coffee and quickly set the cup down, coughing to clear her throat.

“You—“ Her coughing continued a moment longer, then stopped.

Susan grabbed his arm to keep him from walking away, and despite pulling him closer she didn’t make eye contact, but took a deep breath.

“I miss you too,” she said quickly. Her voice cracked and wavered. She felt that she was going to need a lot more coffee to get over that one.

"I know," Dutch said it solemnly as he allowed her to pull him closer.

Despite his current psychological turmoil, Dutch did his best to compose himself. However, her contact burned his skin. He tried to meet her eyes.

"I know...I ain't—I haven't been a good man, but maybe here in this goddamn century things can be different. They _will_ be different," he fumbled and stammered, but ended on surety.

“Dutch van der Linde, you are a great man. Don’t tell yourself otherwise, you’d just be lying.” Susan looked up to meet his eyes; those oh-so-caring eyes. “And, things can be different in this century, but that ain’t goin’ to change the ways of _our_ century,” 

"Thank you, miss...I'm glad you ain't abandoned me yet." Dutch felt himself frown. "You're right. Things ain't changed there, but here..." He pulled his arm from her and didn't finish his thought, but gave her one last look before he shut the bathroom door behind him.

Susan sighed as she watched him walk away. Then, she dropped unceremoniously into the vacant chair and took the towel off, holding it in her lap.

Why did everything have to be so complicated? Why couldn’t she let things happen without bringing practicality into it? She just wanted to be happy and she has the chance, but she was a coward with a specialty in reasoning.

The hot water did nothing to calm Dutch as it ran over his skin. He was troubled; deeply and rightly so. He wasn’t a superstitious man, but he had a hard time believing in coincidences. It could have been anyone falling off the cliff with him, but it was _her_.

_Destiny_. The word lingered in his mind as he scrubbed at his body and hair. The bar of soap he used lathered wonderfully. Promptly, he rinsed and toweled off. Then, he put his pants back on and stepped out into the room, rubbing at his hair.

“Um... your shirt is over there.” Susan cursed herself for stating the obvious, but she needed something to break her away from staring as it was still difficult to look away.

The way the stream followed him out of the bathroom...his messed up hair... _everything_. He was just as charming—if not more so—as he was the day that they had met.

Susan took a long, slow sip of coffee.

Dutch nodded at her, still deep in thought. He donned his white shirt, leaving two buttons undone at the neck, and rolls his sleeves to his elbows. Wordlessly, he went to the mirror, running his fingers through his hair giving it that swept back look. How he wished for pomade. Next, he examined his mustache. He'd need a trim soon.

"The vest?" Dutcn asked her. "You think it's too much?" He stepped into his boots and grabbed his hat as he met her eyes.

“I think so. We’ll be traveling together, so it’s important to somewhat resemble each other’s style.” Susan watched, appreciating the sight before her; Dutch van der Linde standing there, fresh from his shower, steam rolling out behind him, and putting his shirt on.

“What’s first on the list?”

Dutch set his vest aside but removed his pocket watch and put it in his pant pocket. "I'm thinking we need a good meal." He almost felt guilty saying it. His gang was in the snow and mountains—

Susan bit her tongue, having nearly let loose and incredibly improper remark. She cleared her throat, noticing the change in his demeanor.

“I doubt they’re where we left them. Hosea probably led them somewhere safe... Hell, maybe they’re even out of the snow." She wasn’t so sure they’d be out of the snow by now, but at the least they may have found shelter.

"Perhaps, they made it to that old Colter town," Dutch agreed. He smoothed his mustache with his thumb and index finger as he considered. He found himself smirking mischievously at her with the gears turning in his mind. "Miss Grimshaw."

“Hm?” Susan glanced around, wide eyed and unsure as to why he had that devilish smirk. Her eyes landed back on him.

"We need aliases." He held out his hand to her.

“And…” Susan took his hand, standing. “What do you have in mind?”

"As always, same first names." Dutch pulled her closer to him. "You'll be the forever and lovely Mrs. O'Malley." His smirk grew as he pulled her closer yet. "I'll be you're devoted husband, of course." He paused, gauging her reaction.

“Why, I think that’ll work jus’ fine.” Susan chuckled lightly, looking up at him. She was starting to get used to the blush that resided in her cheeks as she allowed him to pull her closer and closer. Her heart fluttered at the proximity.

"I'm glad you agree." Dutch pressed a kiss to her knuckles while maintaining eye contact.

“Oh, you damn fool! Lead a woman on and only kiss her knuckles,“ Susan rambled as she removed her hand from his and placed it on his shoulder, leaning up to kiss him. 

In turn, Dutch pulled her against his chest and kissed her firmly. "I told you I was," he whispered against her lips. "A damn fool."

“You said you aren’t a good man. I said you’re a fool...” Susan cupped the back of his head and pulled him in for another kiss.

Dutch couldn't help it when he melted into her. He had it in his mind to keep the kiss chaste and as proper as he should, but God, he couldn't and he didn’t. Eagerly, his tongue slipped into her mouth as he pulled her tighter against him.

The kiss was wet and warm.

The raven haired man wasn't sure what possessed him. If it's the grief, anxiety, stress, fear or the strange phenomenon they experienced; he wasn't sure and that uncertainty terrified him more than anything, which caused him to seek the reassurance and closeness to mask his vulnerability—stave it off.

Susan hummed her approval, letting him slip his tongue in. Her hands moved to slide up his chest and gripped the excess fabric of his shirt. She wasn’t sure why she was being so bold, but she didn't regret it. Of all the terrible things they’d been through in the past few days, something good was coming from it.

Susan's movements and sounds only encouraged him. He continued to kiss her deeply for a few moments, even going as far as to wrap his arms around her waist and pulling her against him. She tasted different than he remembered; smelled different and moved different, too. The way her tongue waltzed with his own and the way her hands were on his chest…

_She's a better kisser than Molly--_

At _that_ thought, Dutch's rational mind caught back up. Abruptly, he pulled away from her, inhaled sharply, and stepped quickly to the dresser, grabbing the wallet and room key.

"Let's go." He doesn't look at her but holds the door open; all business once more. His grief was immense.

Susan stared him down for a moment before gathering her bearings. She tugged her shirt to fix it and walked out ahead of him. She knew it wouldn’t last, but she wished it hadn’t ended so abruptly; so coldly.

"Susan." Dutch quickly stepped up next to her and grabbed her hand. He didn't like it, but he understood the look in her eyes. He'd seen it so many times before. It was always his fault as it was even now. She deserved better; deserved more than him and the gang. When he had been selfish and fickle, she remained just as loyal and faithful as ever.

“I think there’s a restaurant up the road.” Susan’s walls had rebuilt almost instantly. She reverted to being indifferent and even.

In her harlot days, it happened often. Men paid to take what they wanted until they were satisfied. Things hadn't changed.

"All right," Dutch said as he realized what he'd done. It's too late, but Dutch knew she wouldn't have been happy if he had continued either.

"Susan," he tried again. "We've got some things to figure out now. Perhaps, we can rehash what happened and go from there, but I'd like to talk about _us_ later."

"If you want to," Dutch added quickly and squeezed her hand. "It is just you and me against the world." He gestured dramatically at the bustling city around them. "Like the good ol' days!"

Susan pulled her hand away and stuffed it in her pocket. Her heart had fluttered again and that won’t lead to anything good.

“I suppose so,” she said flatly. She kept her sentences short so she didn’t say more than needs to be said—so her heart wouldn't try and betray her mind.

"It shall be so, then!" Dutch's renewed energy surprised him as he walked next to her. "We can't be itinerant workers or laid off farm hands here. It doesn't seem appropriate for this century. I hadn't finished the aliases... What do you think?" He fought the warmth in his face and regarded her.

“Small business owners…business went bankrupt.” Susan showed nowhere near as much enthusiasm as Dutch. “New York is our last hope to renew the business.”

"Business owners." He hummed to himself as he considered.

“We sell business attire,” Susan offered.

Dutch furrowed his brow at her for a moment and thought back to the clothing store. "Our factory failed--got shut down for various reasons that we don't wish to discuss. Consequently, our store front failed as well. Thusly, we are seeking redemption in this great city!"

“Exactly.”Susan observed the people passing them, their demeanors, clothing, anything she might need to know. “Uh, just up ahead. The restaurant, I mean. It’s jus' up ahead."

Dutch watched her and the people around them closely. From their hair to their clothing, everything and everyone was much more colorful than 1899. It was a strange time to be alive, he thought.

When they arrived at the restaurant, Dutch held the door, pulled her chair out for her at the table, and seated himself.

"Well, I am famished!" Dutch looked over a menu. "What say you, Mrs. O'Malley?"

Susan took a breath and threw on a smile. “I could eat.” She picked up her own menu, looking through it. She’d never eaten half of the things in this _thing_ , and don’t even bother asking her about the drinks.

_What the hell is a Bloody Mary? Or an avocado? Pizza?_

Susan wasn’t picky when it came to food, but she’d at least like to know what she’s eating.

Dutch mimicked her order and sipped on a water. "We need to talk about what happened."

“Fine. Say what you need to say.”

Dutch flustered a bit and shifted. "I mean about the," he lowered his voice, "time travel. What happened--the events as your remember 'em."

“Oh..” Susan felt real stupid right about now. She sat upright. “I fell off the cliff and I tried to grab onto you but that clearly didn’t work. Then we fell in a warehouse.”

"You didn't hear or see anything strange?" Dutch asked her.

“I didn’t hear anythin’ ‘cept...‘cept my screamin’. And I certainly didn’t see anything.”

"Did you _feel_ anything?"

“We were falling to our death, Dutch. I didn’t much take notice of anything except the thought of going splat on some rock.”

The gang leader pondered what she said for a quiet moment.

"Goddamn it," Dutch muttered under his breath. "I'm afraid I didn't notice anything either..." He let his voice trail off as he looked at his hand. His eyes lit up. "Are you missing anything?"

Susan’s hand flew to her chest. “My necklace! I don’t know where my necklace is!”

Dutch held his hand up and wiggled his fingers, showing her the missing golden ring with the elegant capital D on it.

“Were we robbed?” Getting sent forward in time, she can sort of understand that. But taking their jewelry? What was the point?

"Not robbed." Dutch reached for her hand. "I think we were _chosen_."

Susan scrunched her nose in skepticism.“Chosen? For what? By who? Why?” She allowed him to take her hand.

"We'll find out," Dutch told her. "I keep thinking back on when we fell and you pulled me with you...I don't think you were wearing your necklace then. My ring was gone before we landed... I'm certain I had it when I put my gloves on just as the snow settled in."

“I always wear my necklace...but how would they just...up and vanish?”

"Now, that's the question! Isn't it!" Dutch laughed and ran his thumb over her knuckles. "The only feller that comes to mind that might know something about the unexplainable..." He shook his head and laughed again.

“Who is...?” Susan tilted her head in question. “Don’t expect me to know. I haven’t left the camp in years,”

"Josiah Trelawny!" Dutch exclaimed a bit too loud.

A few people turned and looked at him.

"Mister Trelawny," Dutch said quieter. "He's the only person I've known to dabble in anything remotely...like this."

Susan leaned back and looked at him like he was insane. “Well, there’s no need to shout. Now, I don’t believe he’s dealt with any real magic. It’s all sleight of hand.” She’d never been privy to Josiah or his shows of grandeur.

Suddenly, Dutch stood and spoke. "Let's get out of here."

“W—bu h—,“ Susan stuttered, standing, too. “But we haven’t eaten.”

"We'll take it with us." Dutch shrugged. "I don't mean to make a scene, Susan, but I can't sit here one more minute. I need to walk...need some air." He tossed her the wallet and headed outside.

Susan fumbled with the wallet before securing her grip on it. “Well, it’s too damn late. You’ve made a scene.” She caught up and thrust the wallet back into his hands.

"Mrs. O'Malley..." He accepted the wallet. "I'll meet you outside."

“Oh, you are impossible! I’m not hungry anymore. So, I’ll just come with.” Susan crossed her arms, incredibly annoyed by his behavior.

Dutch tried to make eye contact and offer some words to her. However, it was hard when he saw three of everything and felt an awful pain in the front of his head, which rendered him unable to do much of anything but walk. He winced and staggered away from her toward the door and then outside and further toward the river, decorated with trees...the only greenery in the gray and metallic environment. He sat himself on a bench there and held his face in his hands.

Susan’s demeanor softened at the sight. She sat beside him and put an arm around his shoulders. “What’s wrong?” There were so many things that could be going on in that man’s head, it was hard to guess sometimes.

"Did I hit my head?" His voice was strange.

“I’m...not sure...does it feel like you did?”

"Did I hit my head just now?" He looked up at her. His eyes weren't right. He was afraid to say more.

“No,” Susan frowned, searching his eyes. She felt his forehead with the back of her hand, trying to gage if he was sick.

"I feel like I..." Dutch looked over his shoulder and startled to his feet. "The trolley!" He pointed at it moving in the street. "The trolley...ah, goddamn it!" He held his head a settled back down. "The goddamn trolley, Susan." He said it like it meant something profound, but he was in pain.

“What the hell are you talking about?” His outburst startled her and she leaned away. She didn’t understand any of it, and that scared her. But she’ll do her best to see him right.

"You ain't gonna believe me..." Utterly distraught, Dutch grabbed Susan and pulled her into his arms as words fell out of his mouth. "When we started talking about _it_...I started thinking...and this pain and the thoughts that came with it and the trolley...I hit my head on the trolley, but I didn't. I—I..." He held her tighter and screwed his eyes shut. "Something _is_ wrong."

Susan wrapped her arms tightly around him. “We’ll fix it...I don’t claim to have the mental capacity for what you’re describing...but we’ll fix it together.”

"I'm afraid I don't have the intellectual fortitude for it either."

After a short moment, Dutch's headache completely subsided as if it had never happened. However, the memories that weren't his own lingered in his mind. He blinked a few times and pulled back just enough to look at her.

"Waste the day with me?" Dutch asked seriously. "Don't get me wrong, Susan, I want to get back--we need to get back, but I think it would be best if we..." He looked at her expectantly.

“Take a day for ourselves,” Susan finished. “I agree, but...are you sure you’re feeling well enough to be out and about?”

"Of course," Dutch agreed with her. "I'm _fine_. I feel _fine_." He smiled, but released her and stared out at the river as he would often stare off at other bodies of water at their many camp sites over the years. The familiarity made his chest swell.

“Then, I don’t see any problem with taking a day for ourselves.” Susan was reluctant to let go of him, so she adjusted to hold his arm. “I always enjoyed the waterside.”

"I know it. Always beautiful..." Dutch looked at her then. "I'm sure of many things, Miss Grimshaw, but women ain't one of 'em... I ain't been a good man, but I've been a fool. Today was one of the first times in a long time, I see it clearly. I can see it. I can see destiny."

Dutch felt the way the corners of his mouth quirked upward and the crazed look on his face, but he was serious and he meant it. He just wanted her to understand it like he does. So clearly, he thought, he understood it so clearly.

“And what is this destiny you speak of?” Susan smirked, poking a little fun at him by speaking dramatically. She thought she knew what he meant by destiny, but at this point it was difficult to tell. She still hasn’t figured out the trolley.

"You and me in Tahiti," Dutch teases. "Wouldn't that be grand?" He winks and smiled dashingly.

Susan laughed and shook her head. “We’ve been here a day and you’re already planning romantic getaways. You have not changed a bit.”

"Can't fight nature," Dutch said. The words felt strange as they rolled off of his tongue. 

“We’ll dispute that later,” Susan winked and turned her attention to the water. “I think there’s far more to this city than an island.”

"All right," Dutch agreed. "We can discuss destiny and nature tomorrow. Only thing I'm interested in today is you, me, and _us_. We could take the trolley."

“Er...are you sure that’s a good idea?”

"As long as this is still New York and not Saint...uh, the name escapes me now..."

“Well...okay.” Susan looked over at him. “Let’s take the trolley.”

"I know I ain't an easy man to...tolerate," Dutch said as he took her hand in his and started walking to the trolley station. "I know things ain't been good between us for a long time. This brush with...whatever it is and this morning has got me seeing things differently."

Susan nodded, understanding his words completely. “I know. I’m...I've always known my feelings about certain things...but this experience is making it easier to show how I feel.” She looked up at Dutch. “Can’t guarantee I won’t revert to my habits, though...”

"Can't guarantee I won't either." Dutch smiled.

The urge to kiss her was there, but he needed to know—needed to talk with her. Maybe things weren't different. Maybe they weren't the same either.

"If you got something to say to _me_ , go on." Dutch tried to make his expression as calm as he can.

“I think I’ve made my feelings clear today.” Susan watched a flock of birds overhead, keeping herself level headed with a surprising ease.

Dutch sighed and stopped their walking. "I am trying my best, Susan. _This_ ain't easy."

“Oh, how obvious do I have to be?!” Susan exclaimed. “You damn fool! I kissed you, and you still don’t know how I feel about you! Do I have to shout it from the roof tops?” She sighed. “I mean, good lord, Dutch. Ain’t you the educated one?”

Dumbfounded and wide-eyed Dutch stared at her, but recovered quickly from her outburst.

"Educated?" Dutch laughed. He cherished that fire in her--some would call her a sour woman, but that was one of the things he prized. "I wouldn't go that far, but--come _here_."

“What?” Susan crossed her arms over her chest and raised a brow at him.

"I don't love _her_ ," Dutch said as he stared at her intensely. "I don't. I felt that needed sayin' before we start whatever this is. It's over, been over for a while...I just ain't told her...yet."

Susan dropped her hands. “She’s too young, anyway...and...” She bit back yet another improper comment. “We ain’t stupid, Dutch. The whole gang knew. They always know when these sorts of things happen...”

"All of you! You've be talking about me?" Dutch felt a bit of rage surface, but he tried to bury it. "I..." He clenched his jaw.

“I don’t talk with them. They don’t much like me...so...if I’m going to be in their conversations, it’s usually by name and not presence...I keep my observations to myself.”

"You know I...I ain't too good at this, Susan, but I want you...to have _clarity_..." Dutch sighed, obviously flustered, and eyed the ring on his finger; the one with the lion's head. He took it off quickly and held it out to her. "Here."

Susan cleared her throat and hesitantly took the ring, as if it might scald her. “What...why...what..” She cleared her throat again. “Why are you giving me your ring?”

"Because I'm a fool," Dutch said, his voice low and velvety. "It's easier to think clearly without the noise of camp and the law after us. Anyways, I know we had our run. There was mistakes on both sides..."

“There was...” Susan nodded in agreement, fiddling with the ring. She looked up at him. “But I don’t think you’re a fool—I mean, I may say you are a fool, but I don’t mean it. You’re the smartest man I ever met...”

"You give me too much credit." Dutch felt the corners of his mouth turn down again. "I was a fool the day I let you...go." He didn't like how this was making him feel. He thought he'd feel better. He always felt better when he talked to Hosea about such things that bothered him, but the way she looked at him—

“You’ve seen the company I keep. Competition ain’t too fierce...” Susan teased, trying to lighten the mood. All of this talking was just making her heart heavy and sad.

“I love you...but.. maybe it was good that things ended when they did...we were still young...ish... We couldn’t really appreciate a relationship...”

"However true, we ain't exactly gettin' any younger _now_." Dutch grabbed her hand and regarded her. "I...care for you greatly. I do. Maybe it ain't too late for _us_?" He did his best to sound hopeful.

_A kiss…sex is one thing...but..._

“Oh, this is starting to sound like one of Mary-Beth’s novels.” Susan chuckled lightly, looking away. “But...I think it ain’t too late.” She met his eyes. “I think now is a great time.”

Dutch smiled. "It's settled then!" He bowed deep and low, his voice dramatic, imitating Josiah Trelawny with his graceful movements. "Mrs. O'Malley, would you kindly accompany your fool of a husband on a date?"

Susan let go of his hand and pocketed the ring, laughing joyously. “I’d be honored.” She pretended to curtsy as she spoke. Then, she proceeded to grab ahold of his arm.

"Delightful." Dutch chuckled lowly as he began to walk with her again.

Perhaps, he was a fool.

Perhaps, she was just as crazy.

Regardless, both of them hadn't a inkling of what the universe had in store for them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you are so inclined, please let us know what you think!


	4. Hell or High Water

"There's a pastry shop next to the trolley station. We could get a few, some coffee, and ride the trolley--see this big ol' city and civilization for what it is!" Dutch offered with gusto.

“Pastries and coffee...sounds real good to me. I’m starvin’.” Susan chuckled at his enthusiasm. “Somewhere along the way...maybe I could get a haircut?”

Dutch shrugged. "Only if you want. I've seen some strange...hairstyles since we've landed here." He smiled. "Whatever you say."

“I think it’ll be nice to try something new--er, so long as it’s not too...out there.”

"Whatever my dear wife wishes." He knew that he was laying it on thick, but he was having fun and it felt good now that they understood each other. He dropped his voice lower yet. "Whatever she desires." He almost purred it as he leant near her ear.

“Oh!” Susan turned bright red and shuddered. She stopped walking and turned to him, hands on her hips. “Don’t you tease me, Dutch O’Malley. I’ll pull you right into that alley. Don’t think I won’t.”

Dutch's heart stuttered at her words and he couldn't think of anything else. He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to regain control and composure, but he couldn't for the life of him get the image out of his mind.

"Those are dangerous words." Dutch looked at her and ran his tongue over his bottom lip.

“Dangerous, maybe. But not a bluff.” Susan raised a daring brow at him. She had to be blind to miss his...intrigue...

Dutch felt his body respond to her words. He swallowed hard.

"Susan, now...as much as I want to and believe me I want to, we will indulge in some good food and the city...before we indulge in each other."

Susan chuckled, smirking mischievously. “Whatever you wish.” She turned to continue walking, pausing to throw a wink at him.

They made it to the pastry shop.

Dutch acted as chivalrous as ever, holding the door and such. He ordered for them both: coffee and several fruit filled pastries. He paid in cash, but noticed most folk paid with their cards. It seemed unwise to him to do that now.

They stood in the waiting area for their order. Dutch couldn't help but place his hand around Susan's shoulder and pull her against him.

Susan found his chivalry dashing and the slightest bit amusing. She would respond with little curtsies and giggles. She gladly leaned into Dutch, smiling up at him.  
Susan glanced around, taking in their environment. She liked this city.

One of the workers called out their alias. Dutch let go of Susan to accept the box and two coffees, handing one out to Susan.

"Come on." He held the box under one arm and his coffee in the same hand. He reached for her again. "M'lady."

Susan chuckled and took hold of his arm. “Where to now, sir?”

Oh, he liked that. Liked it too much. He wanted to tell her--ask her to say it, again. That single word stirred something in him. All he could think about was the lewd acts in the alleyway that he had turned down and sir rolling off of her lips. He shuddered at the thought.

Susan's laughter brought him back. "To the trolley station of course, my dear!" It was only a few hundred yard away.

Susan hid a small smirk. She knew just how her choice of words would affect him. That’s why she chose that one, but she played innocent.

“I’ve never seen a trolley up close before.”

"Like a train, but a bit different...less noise," he commented as he cleared he throat. All things he wished to say and do, he pushed it down. There is time for that later, he told himself.

Dutch paid for two tickets and boards, leading Susan still.

"That's us there." He pointed to the two secluded seats in the back. The trolley was rather empty. Dutch grinned at the thought.

“Bold of you to assume I’ve been on a train,” Susan chuckled, following him to their seats. She immediately took note of the seclusion, bearing a wicked smile.

"Forgive my assumption," Dutch said playfully as he ushered Susan into the window seat. "As we have established, I am but a fool."

“Oh, stop that. You ain’t a fool,” Susan shook her head at his comment, taking her seat. “I jus’ say that."

"I know, my dear." He sat beside her and handed her the box of pastries. "Happily, I'd choose to be your fool each and every day." He laughed a bit at the cheesiness of his own remark.

“I’ll hold you to that,” Susan chuckled. She liked the sound of that. Her fool.

"I hope so." He took a sip of his coffee and sat it between his legs. "May I have one of those?" He gestured.

“You don’t have to ask, just take some.” Susan sipped her coffee and picked her own pastry out, taking a bite.

"I'm really trying here," Dutch started as he obliged and took one. "I'm really trying to turn over a new leaf and," he took a bite and a satisfaction sound left his throat, "these are divine," he closed his eyes to savor it, chewed, and swallowed. He opened his eyes and looked at Susan. "What?" He reached for a second.

Susan had been staring him down as he ate. When he noticed, she looked out the window and sipped her coffee, acting innocent. “What?” His satisfied noises sparked a flame in her. She sipped her coffee yet again and licked her lips.

He startled so slight as the trolley begins to move. "Let us go forth and look upon these city folk and their architecture!" He forced enthusiasm and a dramatic air for her.

The gradual speed and smoothness of the ride surprised him. Regardless of the pleasant sounds, and busy views, he found himself gripping Susan's hand tightly as he remembered a bit more of what _didn't_ happen to him.

Once Susan got over her excitement about the trolley’s movement, she turned to watch buildings pass. At first, Susan was happy to hold Dutch’s hand, but when his grip tightened, she turned to him and spoke gently, “What’s wrong?”

"Arthur, Lenny, and I..." He took a long swig of coffee. "We was set up...a job went bad and one of these...crashed...and hit my head." He was almost angry at the thought of betrayal, but quickly reminded himself that that had not happened.

“Who set you up? Did everyone--“ Susan had to stop herself from bombarding him with questions. “The important thing is that it didn’t happen. And you can make sure it doesn’t happen, now.”

"If it comes to it, remind me not to trust the Italian bastard." He almost spat those words.

“Who’s to say I didn’t?”

"Hm..." He considered and dismissed it.

"Think they got these anywhere in 1899?" Dutch asked as he took another pastry.

“I don’t think so...maybe in New York...but I’m the wrong person to ask. I have no idea what they sell anywhere in 1899. Like I said earlier, I don’t leave camp.”

"I know, I know...I forget..." He looked at her for a moment, realizing he never acknowledged or appreciated her sacrifices. "Thank you." He said it slowly, hoping she will understand.

“I don’t know what you’re thankin’ me for.”

"Susan, my dear, I..." He held her hand, again. "Let me make it up to you, hm? The things you ain't done and seen...we will experience it together."

“There’s nothin’ to make up for. If you’re talking about staying in camp, that was my choice. Somebody had to keep everyone in line...” Susan paused, trailing off. She glanced up at Dutch “...but I’d still like to experience things with you...”

Dutch couldn't help himself when he kissed her hand and spoke, again. "I ain't never thanked you _properly_..." He paused and looked at her expectantly once more.

“You can thank me improperly later,” Susan spoke casually, looking out the window as if her comment hadn’t affected her. She glanced over to see his reaction.

Dutch went to take the last swig of his coffee and nearly choked. She had caught him off guard.

Susan withheld her laughter and pretended not to notice. She took great pride in catching him off guard for any reason.

After Dutch recovered, he discarded his empty coffee cup and stared out the window with his fingers laced her hers.

Susan gave his hand a squeeze and pecked his cheek. She planned on taking full advantage of hand holding, and kissing, and just about everything. “This trolley ride was a good idea,”

Dutch hadn't meant to blink so hard when her lips touched his cheek. Even that had made his heart stutter.

"Yes, it was," he agreed. After a moment of watching her look out the window, he spoke quieter and moved his face closer to hers. "Kiss me."

Susan raised a brow and a smirk at his demand, but very willingly kissed him. She wanted so much more, but held back given the fact they were in public.

She tasted of coffee and sweetness. He let her lead for once and savored all of it. Her lips were warm and soft. "Su--," he spoke against her lips, "--san."

Susan pulled back just enough to meet his eyes. She waited for a response--a very difficult thing to do with how tempting his lips were.

"I've been having selfish thoughts already," Dutch mused as he watched her eyes drift back to his lips.

“Mm, I’ve been having some of my own...” Susan's eyes flicked back to his and she winked, sipping her coffee as if nothing had occurred.

"Miss," Dutch sighed. "You don't understand me." He moved closer so he was completely crowding her space.

“I understand you far better than you know. I just like to tease you.” Susan watched him move closer with a smirk.

"Humor me, then." His smirk grew. "What do you think I'm thinking? Oh, and be warned dear, in 2009, Dutch van der Linde is a changed man--a different man."

Susan’s hand slid down Dutch’s leg to rest on his knee, and she tilted her head in mock thought. “You’re thinking about some mighty improper things.”

"You ain't wrong, miss," his voice grew deeper and he leaned closer so his lips brushed her neck. "You ain't wrong...that ain;t all, but..."

Dutch nearly forgot what he wanted to say, but he couldn't help himself when he kissed her again. This time he wrapped his arm around her shoulders and nearly pulled her into his lap.

Susan leaned into him, slipping her tongue in to the kiss. Both hands cupped his face, allowing her to get better leverage in the kiss. She only resisted moving to his lap, not wanting to bring too much attention from the other passengers.

Dutch pulled away first but let her continue to hold his face in her hands. He decided now wasn't the time to tell her. Maybe he would later tonight or tomorrow morning. He blushed as he thought about what they might get up to when they got back to the hotel. However, he felt the need to at least communicate what he felt. He's fairly certain he had used the line on her before, but he didn't care.

"Shall I compare thee to... What shall I compare thee to?" He asks out loud as he kisses her finger tips. "Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?" He paused and kissed her lips again as he think of a metaphor she'd understand. "Or a starry sky on a warm summer's night? What do you think?"

Susan playfully rolled her eyes, smiling. “I’ve heard you say that before. Only, I believe you’d said something about my eyes and it went horribly wrong.” She giggled at the distant memory. “Either way, it impresses far more than it did then.”

"I believe you're right." Dutch can't help but chuckle. "I have changed," he assures her.

“Mentally. But you’re _exactly_ the same physically.” Susan winked.

"Oh, come on now," Dutch laughed. "I ain't no--what is it that Hosea says? A spring chicken?" He laughed, again. "I appreciate it, Susan, but I ain't no spring chicken. That's why I don't understand why Mo--" He stopped himself and moved to kiss Susan, again. He wanted to push the other woman furtherest from his mind.

Susan gladly accepted the kiss, but pulled away after a moment.

“It’s okay to talk about her. And--I think you’re the same, physically. Or, you’re closer to how you were than I am.”

"I don't want to waste another moment on _her_ ," Dutch said. He's tense and the next words threatening to roll off of his tongue feel strange and distasteful, but he says it anyways. "She--it's in the past."

“Dutch...our entire lives are in the past...”

He sighed. "Don't I know it.... We will get back to our family... Excuse me if I don't want to talk about or think about Miss Molly O'Shea." He exhaled loudly through his nose.

Susan stayed quiet, turning to look out the window. After a minute, she spoke.

“What if I don’t want to go back?”

"What do you mean? Why?" He felt his chest get tight.

“I jus’...everything is better here..." Susan started to regret voicing her thought. She focused on the buildings passing them.

"Really, tell me why," he prompted her. There was a feeling of betrayal already burning in his chest and he was struggling to keep it calm. Honestly, he'd thought about it himself, but... He squeezed her hand.

“I like it here...there’s no law chasin’ us and you ain’t got a price on your head...this is a clean slate.” Susan paused and took a slow sip of coffee, trying to keep her voice steady. Why did she have to open her mouth? “If we go back, you’ll go back to getting shot at every other day. I’ll go back to bein’ the camp joke...”

The betrayal that Dutch had anticipated left his chest and was quickly replaced by grief and regret.

"I...understand all of that, I do, but I need you to listen to me carefully." He held her gaze. "The things you said may be true, but the last thing...you ain't a joke. They think I've lost my goddamn mind; Dutch and his plans...They are kids most of 'em, Miss Grimshaw, children. They don't understand what we do for them. What we provide. That whole goddamn mess of 'em, wouldn't even be alive if _you_ weren't there. Hell, I'd probably be six feet under, too."

“Call them kids all you want, Dutch. That don’t make it any better...I can’t enjoy a meal without bein’ laughed at...” Susan sighed. “I care about them. I care about all of them, fiercely. But they won’t notice 'til I’m six feet under... Which is a common topic, I’ve noticed...” She trailed off and took a deep breath. “But here. Here, no one knows us. No one will laugh.. we’re free,”

Dutch was enraged by what he was hearing. Had he really paid so little attention?

"If you're next to me--with me, married to me, they won't say anything. I promise you that." He glared out the window.

Susan let out a small gasp at his statement. She expected something along those lines but not quite that far. She could argue further, about how that doesn’t stop the jokes. Case in point, Molly O’Shea, the camp’s second largest joke--but his words didn’t deserve to be spoiled and she didn’t want to argue any longer.

Susan smiled softly and kissed his cheek.

“Okay...”

"They wouldn't leave us," he said slowly. "Arthur, Hosea...they'd come."

Susan frowned. “I know...I’m sorry...”

She regretted saying anything at all. How could she be so selfish? What if the gang really was stranded in the snow still? What kind of a monster would leave them to die? They even had Jack among them. Was she really willing to let a child freeze for her own selfish desires? Her chest constricted, full of guilt and sorrow. They need to get back.

"Honestly, I've considered it. It's been on my mind a few times..." Dutch confessed.

“Let’s talk about something else...please...”

"Fine..." He sighed. "What do you want to talk about?"

“I...I don’t have a topic.. Uh...where are we going next?”

"The salon?"

“Right. I knew that.” She didn’t.

“Are you going to shave your beard?”

"What do you think" He felt his cheeks with his hands. "Beard or not?"

“I like both. But no beard is cleaner and easy to manage. You don’t want to end up like Bill. Why don’t you try the beard until we’re ready to go back? If you don’t like it, you can shave it. The gang doesn’t have to know.”

"I'm trying to save money is all," Dutch defended.

“I can get a few wallets just walking through the crowds.”

"I know...I just..." He squeezed her hand. "Only if I'm nearby."

“I wasn’t planning on wandering off without you. But if I did, I can handle myself.”

"I know..." He was going to mention old habits, how he didn't have his guns, how things were different now, and how he wanted no harm to come to her. "You're a strong woman."

“Trust me, Dutch. I used to work in a saloon. I know how to defend myself.”

"I trust you," he said a bit reluctantly. He didn't like when she talked about _it_.

“Good. Because there is going to be times where I go off on my own, and I’m going to need you to accept that.”

Dutch sighed in his frustration. That is not how this works, he thought. "I trust you, but it's the other people I worry about."

He tried so hard to swallow down what he wanted to say. Maybe he could get through to her as time goes on. He knew nothing good would become of an argument. He didn't want to have to keep repairing this--them.

Susan’s defiance melted away, and she hugged onto Dutch’s arm.

“I know you care, and you’re just worried for me; scared for me, but you can’t always hold on to that. If I always held on to my fears, no one would ever leave camp--especially my girls.” She kept her voice calm so he didn’t think she was trying to argue.

"I know." That's all he could say. He didn't want to dwell on things.

“So...are you going to go with the beard?”

"No." He shook his head. "As you mentioned, I don't want to look like Bill."

“That would only be if you grow it too long and don’t take care of it.”

"I'll get it closely cropped for now and buy my own straight edge, if they got one." He smirked. "You're the one gonna be kissin' me... That way, if you don't like it, I'll shave it off."

Susan rolled her eyes, mirroring his smirk. “I got a feeling I’m goin’ t’ like it.”

"All right." He looked up to the front of the car. "Wonder when this thing is stoppin'?"

“I’m surprised it hasn’t yet. We’ve been on for awhile.”

Susan broke the last pastry in half and offered part to Dutch.

"Thank you, miss." He ate the last bit. "I'm gonna have a chat with the conductor."

“Hun, I don’t think that’ll be necessary. We’ll probably stop sometime soon.”

"Oh, all right." He settled back down and studied the buildings, people, and the moving cars.

“I think we should get one of them maps that tells us what to find around here.”

"That's a good idea. However, I don't mind wandering blind...with you that is." He settled further down into the seat and leaned his head against her shoulder. "We can get one."

“Just so we know some interesting spots to visit. We’ll pick where we want to go and get lost finding it. That sound good to you, Mr. O’Malley?” Susan put her arm around Dutch’s shoulder and held him firmly.

"'Course it does, Mrs. O'Malley." He looked up her. "You're real pretty from this angle."

Susan glanced down at him with a raised brow and a smile.

“Well, you look good from any angle.”

"Thank you." He smiles back up at her. "I don't deserve you." That's the single best thing he can think to say. Because she is better than him and he knew it. He just hoped that he can keep her this time.

“I’d dispute that, but that argument would never end.”

Susan absently ran a hand through Dutch’s hair. She hoped that she can keep him this time. Losing him...that’d... Well, there’s no need to think like that.

"You're right about that." He sighed contentedly at her touch.

“I’m right about everything,” Susan joked, chuckling lightly.

"More often than not," he agreed with a smile. One of his hands moved to rest on her thigh, closer to her knee than anything else. He moved his hand just a bit, feeling the jean material. "Feels different..." He mused.

A light blush crept up Susan’s neck as she grinned. “The leg or the fabric?”

"Fabric." He purred the word; drug out the vowels out as he walked his fingers from the outside of her knee to where the jeans end at her hip. "You are perfection," he told her. "Simply perfection."

Susan paid close attention to the movements of his hand and the heat in her face. It took all she had not to twitch and stutter while under his touch.

“Thank you,”

He glanced forward at the few other passengers toward the front of the car and then back at her. "You think they can see us?" His smile was telling.

“No. I-I don’t think so.” Susan became increasingly flustered .

"Good..." He leaned over and nuzzled her neck, and placed several kisses there as well. He wouldn't mark her; not like he did when he was young. His hand lifted her blouse just a tad so he could knead her hip in his hand while he continued to pepper kisses to her neck and jaw.

Susan bit her lip, trying to stifle her soft gasps. She tilted her head back to allow him better access to her neck, exhaling slowly.

"I missed you," Dutch mumbled against her neck. "Missed you so much..." He continued to mumble nonsense as he nibbled at her neck with his teeth, soothing each bite with his tongue--gentle enough for no marks. His hand still held steady at her hip. Each little sound that escaped her only encourages him more.

Susan’s hand stifled any gasp that might come out just a little too loud. The risk of getting caught made it all the more fun, but oh how she wished she could be loud. She leaned into his light nibbles, humming her approval.

"Mrs. O'Malley," he breathed in her ear. "Like we discussed..." He planted a firm kiss just behind her ear. "I plan to make it up to you..." He nibbled on her ear lobe and trailed down to just under her jaw, biting and kissing her sensitive skin there. His right hand continued to glide up and down her side; rough fingers against her soft skin.

"No matter how long it takes..." His kissing and touching only became a bit more fevered. He was enthralled by the sounds she muffled with her hand. How he wanted to hear it. "I will take care of you..."

“Susan found it more and more difficult to stay quiet, her breathing had become heavier and her noises were no longer silenced by her hand.

Heavily blushing and hungry for more, she moved into his touch.

“Mr. O’Malley...sir...”

The warm coil in Dutch's gut wound even tighter at her utterance of _that_ word.

"Look at us," he hummed as he kissed her lips. "Like a couple of kids." He kissed her firmly a few more times, stilled his hand, and just watched her.

Susan gladly accepts the kisses, groaning lightly when his hands stopped. “I remember being young and it certainly weren’t this fun,”

Her comment perplexed him. "I don't mean to taint the mood," he said as he kissed her, again. "But a man's gotta wonder, it weren't this fun when we were together?"

“It were. But we’re better at this now. More mature.” Susan reaches over and fiddles with Dutch’s collar. “Anythin’ with you is fun.”

"I'm inclined to agree..." Dutch leaned forward and kissed her wrist as she touches his shirt.

Susan gently pulled Dutch into her arms. “I should hope you agree. Wouldn’t know what to say if you disagreed,”

He smiled and moved into her space. "It ain't perfect, but this is the best day I've had in long time." He looked at her and he couldn't help his heart as it swelled in his chest. "I ain't felt like...this in...years." He allowed one of his hands to stroke the back of her neck.

“Me either...but...this’ll be our new normal. It’s almost hard to believe.”

Susan leaned into Dutch’s touch. She moved to lay her head on his shoulder.

He held her. "When we go back," he started. "This ain't changin'." He kissed her cheek. "I ain't lettin' nothing come between us," he said with a riled conviction. He felt his pulse quicken and his posture stiffened a bit. "Not the law, not the gang, not her, or anyone else..." He can't help the raw emotion brewing in his chest--he feels half crazy and doesn't understand the feeling. He hates it.

Susan looked up at him, stuck between happy and concerned. He sounded off.

“The gang should always come first, Dutch,”

Most of the gang had joined them young, without parental figures. Susan had taken it upon herself to care for each and every one of them like they were her own. She might have trouble expressing her care, but it’s there.

In that moment, her loyalty, faith, and devotion angered him. He wanted to be selfish. He wanted her to be selfish. He stilled and clenched his jaw. Not trusting his voice. He reached over to her and caressed her cheek with his thumb.

Susan leaned into his touch. “They’re the whole reason we’re trying to go back home. They need us.”

"I know, but..." He removed his hand from her and glanced out the window. It's really hard for him to believe that the time travel and the time his has spent with Susan is real. He buried his selfish thoughts and looked at her. "The gang comes first," he said it seriously. "After today, we put all of our time and effort into getting home."

Susan nodded in agreement. “We’ll be home in no time.”

She kept her head laid on his shoulder, watching the world outside pass them by.

“They need us,” she said.

"They do..." He rests his head on hers. "But I need you, too." Dutch wasn't quite why he had let that slip or sure of anything other than he wanted Susan with him and by him. Because of her previous comments, he thought of her running off on him or resuming her old means of employment--it burned in his brain.

Susan furrowed her brows and looked up at him. “I ain’t goin’ anywhere, hun.”

"You better not," he said in warning tone. "Come hell or high water, I will find you and bring you back!" He kissed her forehead roughly, sat back, and glared out the window.

Susan startled at his initial tone. She bit her tongue to refrain from questioning him. That could go very wrong given his current agitated state.

"You make me..." He let his voice trail off as it became a bit softer, but still agitated. He still didn't look at her. "I don't think there's a word for it..." He rested one of his hands, possessively on her thigh.

Susan laid her hand on top of his, threading their fingers. “I think I understand anyway.” She relaxed, thinking she understood what was going on in his head.

He grumbled a response of acknowledgment and squeezed her hand. "Wonder when we're stoppin'." He leaned forward and looked at the conductor. As if on cue, the man throws a lever. And the car begins to slow.

“I told you we’d be stopping soon,”

Susan sat up, taking her hand back. She stood and waited to exit.

Dutch followed behind the other passengers and exited the car. He began to walk too quickly down the street, but stopped to wait for her. As he did, he stared across the street at a group of scantily clad young woman. Their dresses, if you can even call them that, barely covered their asses and-- He looked away with a blush. How someone could go out in public like that was beyond him, but times were different...after all.

Susan followed, marveling at the city around them. She turned to Dutch to comment on it but noticed he was staring at something. So, she followed his gaze until the women came into view.

“Good lord, where’s the rest of their clothes?”

"Women in this century," he started and pulled at his collar. "Don't seem inclined to leave much to the imagination."

“Why, that takes the fun out of it.” Susan shook her head in disapproval. She grabbed Dutch’s hand. “C’mon, let's go.”

And _go_ they would...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To those of you have have left kudos, thank you!


	5. We're Gonna Be Great

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This here chapter justifies the mature rating. Consider yourself warned, dear reader. Enjoy!

"Susan," Dutch prompted her. "You was always a good thief." He winked at her and looked to a group of young people, a few strides ahead of them, who appeared to be preoccupied by bright objects in their hands.

"Easy pickings," he whispered.

A sly smirk made its way across Susan’s face as she watched the crowd approach.

“I don’t think _‘good’_ begins to describe me,” Susan joked.

Susan proceeded to walk through the group. The thieving woman seemed distracted by all the buildings and city lights as she moved amongst them. However, anyone who paid close enough attention would see her grabbing their wallets...

Dutch slowed his pace and hung back, keeping a watchful eye out for any possible threat.

On the other side of the crowd, Susan teasingly waved at Dutch.

Dutch's mouth was a taut line as be raised his chin a little to acknowledge her. The situation felt strange...eerily so.

Susan looked over the wallets in her hands, wondering where she was supposed to hide them. As it turns out, women’s pants have but one pocket, and it wouldn't fit one wallet, let alone four.

His heart thumped wildly in his chest as he lost sight of her, vision blocked by a large crowd swarming in front of him.

Susan forced one wallet into her pocket and the others into her brassiere. It was surprising they fit, but why question what works? She looked up, trying to spot Dutch. Her alarm heightened when she noticed he was nowhere in sight.

Dutch van der Linde does not panic. That was what he told himself as he quickened his steps in the last direction he saw Miss Grimshaw. Oh, but he felt his pulse quickening and a sense of trepidation. There were too many unknowns in this city--in this _century_.

In his dismay, Dutch sought out the color red but didn't find it. There was too much motion and bodies; everything ran together. Frustrated, he pushed through passerby and earned a few nasty remarks, but he didn't care. His heart was beating too fast and far too loud for him to hear them anyway.

“Dutch?” Susan called out to the crowd, trying to spot his white shirt, but half the crowd wore something similar.

Anywhere else, she wouldn’t be as worried. However, this was New York, a city full of criminals far more dangerous than she, a city they knew nothing about, a city that was so far from home.

“Dutch!”

The mustached man continued to quite literally shove and wrestle his way through the crowd. Every worst case scenario ran through his mind. Already, he started to blame himself if something bad were to befall her.

"Watch it!" A man of average height and stature pushed Dutch's chest as he tried to maneuver through the crowd. "Fuck off, buddy!"

In response, Dutch glared at the man and clenched his fists as the other man looked like he might square up. Dutch opened his mouth to spew an insult--but his name on the air caught his attention. He quickly tore away from the aggressor and headed toward _her_ voice.

"Susan!"

The panicked woman perked up at the sound of her name and pushed through the crowd, searching for Dutch.

“Dutch!" People threw her glares but did and said nothing. “I’m right here!”

In a hurry, Dutch forced his way through a few more people. He reached her, pulled her firmly against him, and roughly captured her lips as the sea of city folk continue to move around them.

Susan wrapped her arms around his neck and reciprocated his kiss, holding herself flush against him.

After a few moments of embracing Susan and holding her securely in his arms, Dutch calmed and rested his forehead against hers. His chest heaved as he greedily sucked in air.

"Are you all right?" Dutch finally asked.

“I’m fine, are you?” Susan cupped Dutch’s face in one hand, lightly brushing her thumb over his cheek.

"I am _now_." Dutch leaned into her touch. It was just the two of them; the city and its noise and people were dead to him; forgotten.

“Had me worried for a second...” Susan wrapped her arms around him, resting her head on his chest. “I think I’d like to return to the hotel, after the salon.”

"Agreed." Dutch hugged her one last time, pulled from her, but threaded his fingers in hers tightly as he glanced around. He wouldn't make the mistake of letting her out of his sight, again. "We need a map."

Glancing around again, Dutch spotted a kiosk that looked about right. "There." He pointed. "Why don't you entertain the clerk while...I _acquire_ one?"

“That sounds like a fine plan to me. What kind of entertainment are you thinking?”

Dutch pondered her questions for a moment. "Up to you, but I have always been partial to seeing you flustering the boys." He winked at her. "Meet me at that alley entrance over there." He gestured. "After."

Susan playfully saluted, adding a little wink. She messed with her hair and pulled the front of her shirt down slightly. Satisfied, she moved to lean on the clerk’s counter. She had the young man blushing in mere seconds. He tried to avoid looking but he couldn’t help it. 

Dutch watched _his_ woman as she worked her magic. For a moment he fantasized about being on the receiving end of such seduction, but shook his head. There would be time for such things later. However, the part that thrilled him the most was no matter who wanted her, he would be the only one to have her.

Back to the task at hand, Dutch didn't feel an ounce of guilt as he plucked several folded maps from the kiosk and tucked them under his arm furthest from the young man. Once more, he glanced at Susan to see the clerk leaning in closer with his mouth open a bit too far and his gaze a bit too low. It annoyed and thrilled him all at the same.

Susan patted the clerk’s cheek condescendingly and walked away with a laugh. She went to the rendezvous point, smirking at Dutch.

"That young man is what? Half our age?" Dutch mirrored her smile.

“I’m thinking more like a third. He seemed like a teenager.”

Dutch chuckled as he looked at her. Her shirt still low and her hair a bit different.

“Hm?” Susan raised a brow, noticing him looking at her.

"You ain't _too_ old as you was saying before," Dutch said seriously. "Had that boy fallin' in love."

“Young men have peculiar interests in a woman. Besides, he was too busy staring low to see my face,” Susan replied.

Dutch huffed and pulled her nearer; he didn't like when she talked like that about herself. So, he searched his brain for words of reassurance as he held her gaze, but came up empty. Thusly, he leaned in as if to kiss her and waited.

Since it seemed Dutch wasn’t going to close the gap, Susan took it upon herself.

Slowly, Dutch returned the kiss. Then, he dragged her up against him and backward toward the alley, seeking privacy.

Susan let him lead, a little confused. “Why the alley?”

Dutch quieted her with his mouth as his free hand began to wander over her body.

Susan laughed against his lips, deepening the kiss, and wrapping her arms around his neck.

Quickly, Dutch folded over the maps and stuffed them in his back pocket as he continued to kiss her. It was hard for him not to laugh with her.

With both hands now free, he started his search for the wallets at her waist. He felt around and squeezed her flesh.

Susan let out soft, approving noises against his lips. She shuddered at his touch.

Taking the soft sounds from her lips as encouragement, Dutch backed her even further into the somewhat dark and narrow corridor. He slid his hands under her blouse and held her hips firmly against him. His left hand dropped further down her hip and found the first wallet in her pocket. He left it there and did the same with his right, but came up short.

"How many did you lift?" Dutch sighed against her lips.

“Four." Susan smirked. “Good luck finding the other three...”

"Luck," Dutch chuckled the word against her mouth. His hands traced back up to her hips. The denim scratched at his skin as he moved his hands along the waist of her jeans.

Suddenly, Dutch grabbed the roundness of her ass in both of his hands and pulled her against him harder.

“Ooh--!” Susan laughed, her breathing heavy from anticipation. She was going to enjoy this while it lasted.

Dutch continued to work her lips over with his. He dared to bite her bottom lip just a little as his hands wandered from her backside, up the small of her back, over her ribs, and up to her shoulders. Her skin was so soft and smooth in his hands. He couldn't help the low groan he stifled against her mouth.

Susan moaned in turn, gripping his hair with one hand. The other held the back of his neck to keep him near.

“You’re getting _close_.”

Dutch's heart stuttered from the sounds and movement of the woman in his grasp. Her word choice had him smiling against her lips. He moved his hands from her shoulder, back down her sides, and over her stomach. He moved his mouth to her neck, pressing messy wet kisses down to her exposed collarbone and further down...and down... he found one! He plucked it from between her breasts, smirking.

"2 down..."

Susan rolled her eyes with a laugh and shut him up with a kiss.

“Find the other two...”

While she kept his lips busy, his hands roamed from the peaks of her brassiere to underneath. Then, he bit her bottom lip again as he felt the remaining two at either side of her breasts.

"Would you mind?" He asked her for assistance as he didn't wish to ruin her clothing too badly. After all, they have one more stop yet.

Susan reached in and pulled the wallets out one at a time, handing them over.

“You can remove it later.” She winked.

At her remark, Dutch kissed her quickly and groaned against her lips. In his arousal, he was struggling with words...with _thoughts_. He turned his attention to the wallets in his hands. Wordlessly, he plucked the fourth from Susan's pocket.

Only one was leather, the others were some scratchy cloth. He went through them quickly taking only the cash, identification, and cards with the black strips. Once finished, he dropped the excess contents on the ground, but decided to keep the black leather one. He took a moment to rearrange its contents and then slipped it into his pocket.

Then, he pulled the area map out of his back pocket and offered Susan his arm.

"Shall we?"

Susan raised a brow, taking his arm. “Find somethin’ you like?” She nodded at the wallet.

"Mhm." He looked at her as he lead her back onto the street. "And _she_ is lovelier than ever."

“Silver-tongued flatterer, I meant the wallet and you know it.” Susan waved him off with a chuckle. “How’d I do?”

Dutch grinned at her and echoed her chuckle. "Adding it to what we already have? Nearly four hundred and fifty."

“If we figure out those card things, they got somethin’ to do with money, we can take the money from them,” Susan said.

Dutch's eyes lit up and he stopped walking. "Cash back!" He said, turning to Susan and grabbing her by the shoulders, shaking her a bit in his enthusiasm. "Cash back!"

“What?” Susan was completely caught off guard. She didn’t understand what he was trying to say.

"At the pastry shop, most folks were paying with those cards! The clerk asked them if they wanted cash back... If you make a purchase, you can get more money."

“Don’t you need to look like the person on the..identification card?”

Dutch shrugged. "That clerk didn't ask--must not care who is buying coffee."

“I suppose you’re right...why don’t we get our own card? We can take out all the money and put it on to one, because if we can take money off we must be able to put money on, right?”

"You are a smart woman," Dutch agreed and kissed her chastely in his gusto. "Certainly, this must be modern banking!"

“I think so!” Susan laughed, gripping his arms in excitement.

"What do you say...tomorrow we look into this card and banking thing, hm?"

“I think that’s a great idea,” Susan agreed.

"Good!" Dutch unfurled the map from under his arm and handed her a corner so they could both look at it. "Salon..." He hummed to himself.

Susan peeked around his arm at the map. “I never learned to read a regular country map, let alone a city map.”

"This looks...complicated." Dutch furrowed his brow and studied it; the map was colorful and covered in symbols he wasn't familiar with. At least the legend/key made sense.

"I ain't seeing salon...another word perhaps...?"

“Barber? Something to do with hair?” Susan offered.

"There's a hair dresser around the corner," Dutch said. "A business called NY Hair..."

“Let’s get goin’ then.”

Dutch agreed, but ended up struggling to get the map folded down to its original size. After a few curses and ungracefully fighting the creases, he managed to get it small enough to barely fit in his back pocket.

"See those kids there?" Dutch pointed at a few young folks with bags slung over their shoulders and backs. "We need a satchel like them."

“I don’t think men wear satchels here.” Susan glanced at the people around them. “Women still wear purses, though.”

"All right...well, if you see any for sale or _otherwise_..."

Susan nodded with a smirk. “I know the drill.”

Dutch mirrored her smirk. "Let's pay a visit to this hair dresser."

“I still don’t know what to do with my hair.”

"We can observe, once we get there," Dutch assured her.

“Isn’t it a bit rude? Showing up without knowing? Maybe...” Susan looked around at the crowd. “The.. maybe I’ll just have it cut around my shoulders. I’ll style it myself from there.”

"Whatever you want," Dutch said as he took her hand in his and walked.

“I don’t know what I want. Why don’t you tell me? I did make the decision about your beard.” Susan really wanted to try something new, but she didn’t know much about hair.

"All right..." Dutch scanned the crowd and saw a few women dressed and aged similarly to Susan; one had a layered cut that ends at the shoulders with side bangs, the other had really long straight hair, and the other looked to have just past shoulder length hair but it was curled. "What do you think of them?" He gestured.

“They look nice, I suppose. What do you think of them? Your opinion’s the only one I care about. I don’t much look at myself, so I don’t care.”

"The layered look...it's shoulder length. You could tie it back, if need be." Dutch looked between the woman and Susan a few times. "It would frame your face nicely," he added with a smirk.

Susan chuckled, shaking her head at the smirk. “I suppose you may be right... I’ll try it.”

"If you don't like it, it'll grow back, and the gang don't need to know," Dutch teased.

“Oh, ha-ha.” Susan pretended to be unamused. “But...they really don’t need to know.”

"I won't tell, if you don't." He stroked his stubbled cheeks.

“I won’t tell.” Susan chuckled at his actions. “If things turn bad, they’ll only laugh.”

Dutch laughed with her.

"It's just there." He gestured to the door of the hairdresser. "You ready?"

“I suppose so.”

Susan took a breath and entered. She spoke with the stylist, who had her take a seat in front of one of the mirrors. Susan didn’t know what half the things on the table were. They had something to do with electricity. Tilting her head this way and that for the hairdresser, she occasionally glanced back at Dutch, nervous.

_Hair grew back but not that fast. So what if this doesn’t work out?_

Her worries were put to rest when the stylist handed her a mirror.

“I like it...thank you.” She looked to Dutch. “You got the card, hun?”

"Of course, my dear." Dutch beamed at her as he took out _his_ wallet and handed the card over for payment.

The hairdresser used the card and handed it back.

Susan held her hand out to Dutch with a smile.

"Mrs. O'Malley, you are beautiful," he said as he replaced the card in his wallet and took her hand.

“You flatter me, Mr. O’Malley.” Susan chuckled, walking out with him. “Back to the hotel?”

"If that is what my lady _desires_ ," Dutch smirked and chuckled lowly.

“Oh, you’ll see what I _desire_ very soon.” Susan mirrored his expression.

"I can hardly wait!" Dutch quickened his pace, pulling her along with eagerness. "It ain't far, is it?"

“No, it’s down the street.” Susan watched the anticipation overtake his face, grinning. She had to take large, fast steps to keep up with him. If he walked any faster, she’d have to start jogging.

Dutch continued to drag her after him, into the hotel, past the front desk, and into the elevator.

Upon entry, he hurriedly pressed their floor's button and turned to her. Their brisk walk left him a bit winded, but he kissed her anyway.

Susan pushed herself against him, returning the embrace. She grabbed onto the chest of his shirt; her fists full of fabric.

In turn, Dutch pressed her back against one of the walls, kissing her _severely_. With one hand he braced himself, the other gripped her jaw as their lips continued to move against each other.

Susan exhaled heavily against his lips before diving back in for more. She slipped her tongue in and explored his mouth, shutting her eyes.

As the elevator doors opened, Dutch broke the kiss, took her hand in his, and led her hastily down the hall.

Quickly, Susan took the keycard out and opened the door, pulling him in after her by the front of his shirt.

As soon as the door closed, Dutch was back in her arms with his tongue in her mouth, and his hands on her hips.

Susan's tongue battled his for control. Her hands slid up to the top of his shirt and unbuttoned it as fast as she could.

Dutch's mouth never left hers as he shrugged out of his shirt and suspenders with her fevered assistance.

Susan moved them backwards and pushed him down onto the bed. She straddled his hips and pulled her own shirt off, chest red with lust.

Dutch looked up at her in awe. He had had something he wanted to say, but with the sight of her before him, he was rendered speechless. His hands went for her brassiere. He fumbled with it as he became distracted by the yearning reflecting in her blue-green eyes.

Susan gently moved his hands away, undoing the brassiere with efficiency and tossing it aside. She leaned down and captured his lips.

His hands ran up her back as he returned the kiss with a vigor he hadn't know in years. He lifted his hips against hers, seeking friction.

She pressed herself down, grinding against him. The one downside to pants was how difficult it was to _feel_ through the material.

"Off," Dutch growled as he pulled at her waistband.

Susan shuddered and hastily did as she was told, eager to follow orders.

Once her garments were gone, Dutch pulled her back down on top of him. He captured her mouth in a hungry kiss before he rolled them both so she was under him. He laced his fingers in hers and held them above her head as he kissed her, again. As his tongue teased at her bottom lip, he pushed his still clothed erection against her.

Susan pressed her chest against his, reciprocating his kisses with a lustful hunger. She bucked her hips, trying to feel more of him.

As his mouth began its journey south, Dutch rutted against her several times. He kissed and nipped his way down her neck and stopped to graze his teeth over her collar bone. After he pulled his hands from hers, he set to work on caressing and teasing her nipples with his mouth and teeth.

Susan softly gasped with each kiss, and each nip. Her noises increased in volume when he started on her nipples. She exhaled shakily as her arousal built.

Dutch's mouth littered kisses and bites from the swell of her breasts to her naval...his calloused hands followed in their wake. He stopped just shy of the mound between her legs, locking eyes with her.

Susan shuddered under his rough hands, moaning softly. She bit her lip and met his eyes with heavy anticipation. One hand gripped the sheets tightly in preparation.

He smiled devilishly as he situated himself further down the bed. He kissed across her pelvic bone and then up and down the inside of her thighs.

She bucked her hips at the first kiss, quietly groaning as he continued.

“..t..tea-ease..”

"Oh, my dear, but you enjoy _this_ ," Dutch defended playfully. He lowered his head and began to lick everywhere around her clit.

Susan opened her mouth to argue, letting out a shaky moan instead. She threaded her hands through his hair, breathing twice as heavy as before.

Dutch focused the pressure of his tongue _there_. Light at first and then firmer and faster, lapping and sucking in time with her whimpers.

Her moans gradually became more frantic, hands gently gripping at his hair. It’d been years since she felt such pleasure.

He brought his long fingers to her already wet slit. Dutch inserted one at first and thrust slowly. His tongue continue to entertain her clit. As her breathing hastened further, he added a second finger and gave several experimental thrusts, before curling them, and searching for her g-spot.

She leaned her head back, mumbling his name in between moans. Fearing that she might hurt him, she let go of his hair and grabbed onto the sheets, gripping tightly.

"Like this?" Dutch asked as he flattened his tongue against her and quickened pace. He knew what he was doing to her, but he wanted hear her broken voice... His fingers found their mark within her warmth, thrusting quicker and quicker. As his tongue and fingers moved in sync, her juices dripped down his hand. Her walls pulsed around his fingers, increasing in speed, until--

“Oh, Dutch!” She called out, reaching her orgasm. Her fingers gripped the sheets so tightly her knuckles whitened. She shuddered as bliss washed over her.

Dutch looked up and admired her expression of ecstasy. Her declaration of his name moved something in him. He captured her mouth in a needy kiss with his tongue darting deep inside. His hands roamed her body once more, caressing her thighs, sides...squeezing her breasts...worshipping her.

"Susan..." He breathed her name against her neck.

Susan responded to the kiss with the same ferocity, cupping his head in her hands. She was the luckiest woman in the world.

She waited for him to speak further.

"Do you want _me_?" Dutch's voice was husky, low, and hoarse...like gravel. His composure was gone. He was nearly trembling from his own desire.

“I _need_ you,” Susan whispered. Her body was relaxed, but her eyes were lively and hungry for more.

He pulled away only long enough to discard his pants, and settled himself over her, again. He took his cock in his hand and lined himself up at her still wet entrance. He slowly entered.

The feeling of warmth and wetness was almost too much. He stilled completely and kissed her again and again.

After a few moments passed, Dutch pushed further and further into her until he had buried himself to the hilt.

Another moment passes before he moved slowly with long drawn out thrusts. It took everything in him not to give in and reach his own orgasm quickly. He wanted to savor this...wanted her to enjoy this.

Susan tensed when he first entered her, unused to his cock--or any cock for that matter. By the second thrust, she’d grown mostly used to him and was able to enjoy it. Her hands slid up his back, resting just below his shoulders. She pulled him low enough to capture his lips, softly tugging.

_Her_ touch and kiss encouraged him to snap his hips--faster and faster now. He angled his hips in an attempt to hit that spot in her that made her eyes shut and cry out his name. He was panting. Dutch's breath was loud and quick as he leaned back enough so that he could get his hand between them. His thumb found her center.

Her moans started off frantic and louder than before. They got louder and louder as he continued to move within her. With the introduction of his thumb, her nails dug into his flesh. She was already so close and it wouldn’t be much longer--

Susan pulled him down against herself, dragging her nails down his back, and calling his name. Her eyes practically rolled into the back of her head as ecstasy took hold, causing her to tremble.

While his fingers found purchase at her hips, Dutch fucked her through her second orgasm. His mouth continued to claim hers over and over as he rapidly snapped his hips forward. Her velvet walls clenched around him...

The sound of ragged groans and slapping skin echoed in the room as Dutch rammed his cock into her continually. A moment later, his hips began to buck and stutter of their own accord. Dutch came hard with a curse on his lips and a stifled growl in his throat, burying himself deep within her tight warmth, filling her completely.

As Dutch came down from his orgasm, he pushed his face into her neck. His chest felt tight, heaving with each breath. He couldn't bring himself to withdraw from her fevered flesh.

Susan held him. She sighed, contented, and ran gentle fingers through his hair as he calmed.

Dutch just breathed as she held him. He couldn't help but feel troubled. Her fingers in her hair just added to his bliss and grief. His mind drifted back to _his_ gang wandering in the mountains and to Molly...if only she knew what he was up to. Even Arthur...and Hosea...the things they might say...the things they might think...the continued doubting...

Before Dutch rolled off of her and onto his back, he nuzzled her neck and kissed her once more. He hoped things would be different _this_ time...

Reluctantly, Susan stood and went to the bathroom, cleaning herself up. She returned to the bed and curled up next to him, resting her head on his shoulder and her hand on his chest.

Calm and composed, Dutch wrapped a strong arm around her.

"Me and you, we're gonna be ok," he soothed. "We're gonna be ok..."

“Better than ok.” Susan shut her eyes. “We’re gonna be great.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you are so inclined, please feel free to leave us feedback!


	6. Fondness

Some time later, Susan awakened. Slowly, she sat up, stretched, and looked around.

At her movement, Dutch stirred and threw an arm over his eyes with a sigh.

Quietly, Susan got up and went around the room; gathering her clothes and unhurriedly put them on. Feeling a bit sore, she laid back down. It wasn’t often she allowed herself to act on being tired. She stared up at the ceiling, drifting through random thoughts.

"The day is still ours," Dutch said, keeping his eyes shut. "What do you think?"

“I could eat,” Susan replied, lifting her head and looking at Dutch for confirmation.

"Me, too," the gang leader agreed. "Maybe a good whiskey or rum...and a cigarette...or cigar..." He found himself rambling and chuckled.

Susan gave a huff of amusement at his list. “I could go for all of that--except the cigar. Too...strong. I prefer cigarettes.”

Dutch took no notice of her comment, going on to voice his thoughts. "If money and keys are cards, in 2009, then I’m kinda concerned on what cigarettes might look like."

“Don’t be silly.” She laughed. “They can’t change a cigarette...can they?”

"Guess we'll find out." Dutch sat up and threw his legs over the side of the bed. Then, he stretched his arms above his head. Once his joints popped and cracked, he turned to look back at her with a smug smirk.

"All that..." Dutch alluded to their previous activities. "Better than we use to?"

Susan rolled her eyes, a small grin spreading across her lips. “Far better.” She sat up and slipped her boots on. “Though, I also had to gag myself to keep quiet back then.”

The dark haired man laughed at the distant memory. "I'm inclined to agree, my dear," he said, as he donned his discarded pants and boots. "Seems age ain't hindered you none," Dutch teased. His suspenders hung at his waist as he searched the room for his shirt.

“I could say the same about you,” the smaller of the two chuckled and walked over, holding up his shirt. “As powerful as ever.” She took enjoyment in boosting his ego.

"Why thank you..." Dutch took his shirt, pulled it on, and righted his suspenders. With a serious look, he turned to her. "As lovely as ever...you really are something special."

“Still flirting? You’ve already got in my bloomers, what else do you want?” She teased.

Refusing to let up and hell bent on getting his point across, Dutch took her hand in his and held her gaze. "I want you," he said. "Whether it is 1899 or 2009, I want your heart...your time...all of you, for as long as you'll have me."

Gently, Susan grabbed his chin with her free hand. “I’ll have you for the rest of time.” She placed a moment’s kiss on his lips.

"I am fond of you," he said as she pulled away.

“I'm...fond of you as well.” She cupped his cheek in one hand, brushing her thumb over it. “And.. that fondness will last. Even after we’re long gone.” _Even after you leave again._

As an disconcerting feeling settled into his chest, Dutch kissed her once more and then paced over to the mirror, righting his messed up hair as best he could.

"My hat?"

“Right here.” Susan set said hat upon his head.

"Thank you." Dutch turned to the mirror. He smoothed his mustache and adjusted his hat. "Ready?"

Susan put the wallet in his pocket and slipped her hand into his. “Now, I am.”

Dutch couldn’t help but smile at her. "Very well." He tucked one of the maps under his free arm and they headed outside.

“I’d ask where we’re going to eat, but we don’t know half the food they have to offer here,” Susan said.

"I saw a few places out that way..." Dutch led her through the crowds of people.

"Horseless carriages," Dutch mumbled to himself as a black sports car caught his eye. "The great automobile, my dear..." He pointed at the car that so heavily held his interest. "I think we might need to _acquire_ one of those."

“I highly doubt we can get the money for one of those. They look expensive.”

"We don't need money necessarily," he argued. "Can't be much harder than horse theft."

“Laws are tougher here. Are you sure we can get away with that?”

"These people don't carry guns," he chided. "Besides, these poor city folk have been made soft and stupid by modern civilization. Look at them, Susan, they don't watch where they walk, they don't even speak to each other...easy pickings for outlaws such as us."

“Maybe...but we don’t know how to use them,” she replied.

"I relent." Dutch was annoyed, but knew she had a point. He'd drop it for now.

In his irritation, Dutch turned his face from her and eyed a carriage pulled by two draft horses and driven by a smartly dressed man. "What do you make of that?"

“Well...I would say that perhaps the poor still use wagons, however, that man looks anything but poor.”

"2009 is strange time," Dutch mused. "That driver there," he pointed, "I agree with you, Mrs. O'Malley. He's far too well dressed and holds an elegance that these walking masses lack. Perhaps, they have romanticized our simple ways of life to ones of sophistication and symbols of wealth in this century."

“Then what are we waitin’ for? C’mon, let’s go!” Susan pulled him towards the carriage.

"Excuse me, friend," Dutch called to the driver as they approached. "My wife and I are interested in your fine carriage here. How much for a fare?"

“Forty each, my good sir. That would be eighty in total,” the man replied, offering a smile. “But a woman as beautiful as this one shall ride free.”

Dutch smiled wide at Susan. "That's wonderful, isn't it, dear?" He peeled the required amount from his wallet, plus a bit extra, and handed it to the driver. "My thanks."

Susan mirrored Dutch’s smile.

“Absolutely.”

The driver pocketed the money and tipped his hat to Dutch, picking up the reigns.

"My lady..." Dutch helped Susan board first and settled next to her.

Once they were both seated, the carriage started forward. Susan laid her head on Dutch’s shoulder, hugging his arm.

“I feel like we should be dressed all fancy and such--like your usual style.” She chuckled.

Before responding, Dutch shared in her laugh. "That's a mighty fine thought...I'll wear my usual, but my wife dressed to the nines in the finest--what is it that they wear now? Silk? High cotton? She'd be the fairest in the land and the only accessory I require."

_My wife._ Every time he said it, Susan's heart skipped a beat.

“In this century, I’m not sure what ‘the nines’ would be, but if I look half as nice as you, I’d gladly wear it,” she replied.

Dutch leaned over and kissed her forehead. "Maybe we will have the chance before we go back!" He gazed off to his left. The sheer size of the surrounding architecture and the intricacy of electricity fascinated him as his mind continued to wander.

"Top hat and all! Perhaps I'd shave this off," Dutch continued as he touched his cheek. "Curl this..." He twisted the ends of his mustache. "What do you think?"

“I’d like that.” Susan brushed her knuckles over his stubble. “But I want to see the beard at some point.”

"Well, I suppose." He caught her hand and nibbled at the inside of her wrist.

Susan blushed and kissed his cheek. “Anywhere you might want to eat?” She gestured to the restaurants along the street.

"We could see if this feller has any recommendations. He seems to have good taste." Dutch winked.

Susan rolled her eyes with a chuckle. “You think any man in a suit has good taste.”

"Clearly most men in suits do or they would not be dressed _tastefully_ as such," he defended, playfully. "Moreover, he can recognize a fine-looking woman. Of course, I'll give him credit for that!"

Susan waved him off with a laugh. “That’s got nothin’ to do with food, though.”

"Perhaps." Dutch smiled. "Perhaps, not." He pulled the map out of his pocket. "See this square here? It's a list of restaurants in the surroundin'. A lot of fancy names..."

“I don’t understand how to pronounce half of ‘em...” Susan squinted at the names. “I don’t think they’re in English.”

Content with flaunting his knowledge, Dutch did his best to pronounce a few. " _Le Bernardin and Vin at Fleurs_ ," he imitated in a French accent. " _Marea, Piccola Cucina, Don Angie_..." He rolled the r and accentuated the vowels. "French or Italian, my dear?"

“Italian?” Susan had no idea what that entailed. She didn’t know if there was a difference.

Dutch smirked and started rattling off things he had learned about either country. "...Italy has only been a country since 1871--inferred they're a fashionable, artistically inclined people. As for France, they were one of them meddling monarch types forcing their poor folk into fighting each other for the sake of a king's appetite--during our time, anyway."

“And you learned all that from your books?” Susan raised a brow when he finished speaking.

As he considered her question, a strange foreboding feeling settled into Dutch's brain. "The French part, certainly and perhaps a bit of it from dear Hosea." He rubbed at his temples. "I ain't so sure about the former...I..."

“Well, the country is full of immigrants. You probably heard it from some in passing,” Susan offered.

He relaxed at her rationalization. "You're probably right...Italian, then?"

Susan nodded. “Italian. I don’t know what kind of food that is, though,” She sincerely hoped it wasn’t snails. She’d heard of foreigners eating such strange foods and hoped to avoid it. Pearson’s stew would be preferable.

Dutch racked his brain for how to explain it to her. He couldn't recall where his knowledge came from, but he tried his best to articulate it as simply as he could.

"Ain't nothing like Mr. Pearson's stew... nothing close... Most of it stems from several key ingredients: red sauces from tomatoes, over pasta--noodles, garlic, oregano, cheeses... breads--not a bland plate by any means!" Dutch rubbed his left temple again. "They've got a mighty fine wine called... Moscato. It's sweet, much like you, Mrs. O'Malley."

“If I knew half the things you do, I would have a full education!” Susan watched him, admiringly. She loved to learn things, new cultures, new words—but she never has the time to read about such things. Dutch and his expansive knowledge... One conversation with him, and she became a thousand times smarter than she was before.

"I'll teach you as we go," he offered with a smile. "However, I've met my fair share of scholarly morons. Hosea once said that 'one of the biggest hindrances to civilization is an educated idiot.'" He chuckled at his own remark. "He ain't wrong that Hosea. He ain't wrong!"

“Whenever we’re wrong, he’s right. Hosea’s probably the reason we’ve all survived so long.” Susan chuckled. “You’ve got the plans, I’ve got the support, and he has the reasoning.”

"Ain't that the most accurate thing I've heard!" For a moment, Dutch paused as he pondered. "Between the three of us. We. Are. Unstoppable..." Dutch punctuated his words for dramatic impact and then let his words trail off as he just regarded her; captivated.

Susan laughed. “No one’s unstoppable, as much as we may try, dear.”

Slightly irked, Dutch hesitated with his response. "A technicality at best." He dismissed it, not wanting to bicker back and forth. Regardless of Blackwater, deep down, he believed wholeheartedly that as long as those two were _with_ him, the rest would fall in line--things couldn't fail and that meant that they are, in fact, unstoppable.

Desperate to distract himself, Dutch closed his eyes for a moment and listened to the familiar trot of the horses hooves on the unfamiliar ground. "If _he_ could see us now, what do you think he would...think?"

“I’m...not sure. He’d probably only think about conning people.” She chuckled. “He’d treat it like another job opportunity.”

"I can see him sniffing about...looking for some rich unsuspecting folks to swindle." Dutch paused as he checked the map one more time. "Excuse me, friend," he said a bit louder.

“Yes, sir?” The carriage driver glanced over his shoulder at Dutch.

"The misses and I are hoping to get some dinner at the _Marea_ on..." Dutch looked to the map once more. "Central Park South."

“As you wish.” The driver tipped his hat and tugged the reigns to the side.

Susan laid her head on Dutch’s shoulder again. “I wonder how the food tastes. I haven’t tried much...variation, food wise, in my life.”

"Between camp stew or saloon food, there ain't exactly many options back in 1899," Dutch explained. "How fortunate for us, to be afforded such an opportunity." He meant to sound sincere, but it came off sarcastic when it left his mouth. So, he spoke quickly to try to fix the strangeness in his voice. "I'm happy to experience these...things with you. We will make the most of this time we've been afforded here!" He wriggled his arm away from her and wrapped it around her shoulders, pulling her closer against his side.

“I am too. There’s no one I’d rather spend my time with than you.” Susan leaned into his side. “By the time we get back, we’re going to know--“ She abruptly sat up, looking at Dutch with a grin.

"Know what?" He raised a brow at her, but then his eyes lit up.

“We’re in the future. We can find out things that happen around 1899 and onward, and use that for jobs.”

Dutch smiled wickedly. "Jobs and otherwise."

“Jobs and otherwise,” she confirmed. Her mischievous smile never faded. “We could make good money real quick. That island you’re always talkin’ ‘bout? Could be there within a few years--more sooner, depending on what we find.”

"My thinking exactly, my dear," he agreed. He didn't know why it hadn't occurred to him sooner. _Destiny_. His mind spiraled to all of the possibilities—lucrative, selfish, and besides. "We'd be doing, not only the gang but also, the universe a disservice to squander such an opportunity!"

“A disservice indeed!” She laughed, exhilarated. “Forget livin’ on the move, we could finally live somewhere with guaranteed freedom.”

"Freedom," he said the word triumphantly and pulled Susan tight against him. His voice was hearty and full of enthusiasm as he continued. "Everything we've ever wanted and strived for is within our reach!" He held an arm out in front him, gesturing toward the sky.

"I can see it now; little Jack growing up well, right, an' without a care in the world--the girls and boys settling down and making a decent life for themselves without the law breathing down their necks!" He laughed; a rich sound.

"You and me playin' house," Dutch added. He couldn’t help but smile and realized his cheeks hurt from the constant effort.

Susan laughed with him, kissing his cheek. The whole speech made her excited--especially, though this may be a selfish thought, playing house. “That’s all I want.”

"Apart from a few other things I can think of..." He captured her lips. "That is all I want."

“And...what might those other things be?” Susan eyed him with a smirk.

Dutch hesitated. "You'll just have to trust me." He grinned back at her.

“I trust you full heartedly.”

"The great writer George MacDonald once penned: 'To be trusted is a greater compliment than being loved.'" His arm tightened around her once more. "Utterly, I trust you, too."

Susan kissed his cheek. “I completely trust you; and completely love you. What does George have to say about that?”

" _I_ say, that it makes me--us, near invincible! No one will crush us!" He declared with confidence. "...and of course, that makes me the luckiest man alive, in the century, the universe... need I go on?"

“Go on,” Susan teased, playfully batting her eyes.

Dutch raised a brow at her teasing of him, a playful smirk on his lips.

After a moment she gave in and chuckled softly “No, you’ve made it quite clear.”

"I hold great fondness for you," he continued anyway. "Not time, Pinkertons, the law, Colm--nothing, nobody can change that. If necessary, I'd set fire to the whole goddamn world and cut every man down..." He hadn't noticed that he was staring at her with such an intensity. His chest felt like an over-wound clock.

"Unabashedly, I am forever yours." Imitating a bow, he lowered his head and raised a hand. " _Yours_."

Susan watched intently as he gave his speech, a soft smile resting on her lips. Her eyes lit with love and passion for the man in front of her. She felt so strongly about him, and the fire in his eyes only reinforced that. Once he finished, she took his face in both hands and kissed him chastely, pulling away just enough to speak.

“And I, yours.”

The feeling in his chest was magnified by the look in her eye and the words on her lips. He leaned in and pressed his lips firmly to hers, savoring the warmth that she brought to his entire being.

Susan reciprocated, one hand letting go of his face and sliding around to rest at the back of his neck, while the other rested on the side.

The driver cleared his throat, “Uh.. Sir, could you please stop...er...loving...each other? We have arrived.”

Dutch hummed in amusement against Susan's mouth and gave her one more quick peck before parting from her.

"We have arrived...how about that, dear?" Dutch helped her down and out of the carriage. Then, turned his attention back to the driver.

"Thank you, _friend_ ," Dutch said as picked up his discarded map and folded it back down to size. "You don't know how much this meant to her," he dropped his voice a bit lower, "it's our anniversary. My thanks, again." He held out his hand with an additional tip in it.

“Ah.” The driver nodded in understanding as he took the tip. “Thank you. And might I say, you made the right choice taking her on a carriage ride. They always love a nice evening on one of these. Here...” He handed Dutch a business card. “Should you need me.”

Susan waited, hands clasped in front of her and looking around, swaying very slightly.

Dutch thanked the man, again, took the card, and made his way to Susan. "That was fun, hm?" He inquired as he examined the business card.

“I enjoyed it very much.” Susan slipped her hand into his. “Shall we?”

"We shall," Dutch agreed and stowed the card in his pocket. "We shall indeed..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you feel so inclined, please let us know what you think!


	7. Half A Bottle In

Once they were inside the restaurant called _Marea_ , Dutch observed the environment; well lit, tastefully decorated with tables and booths spread throughout the immediate area. A large Italian flag hung above the long bar.

Dutch led Susan to a 'please wait to be seated' sign.

The gang leader inhaled deeply as a waiter walked past with a tray of food. "That smells good."

“I don’t think I’ve ever smelt something so..good." Susan’s eyes followed the tray. “I’ll have what *they’re* havin’.” She chuckled.

Dutch hummed in agreement.

A few moments later, they were seated. A young and blonde waitress approached their table with a basket in her hand.

"I'm Katie and I'll be taking care of you this evening." She set the basket down in the middle of the table and pulled out her pad and pen.

"Hello, Katie," Dutch greeted with a smile. "How are you?"

"Fine, thanks! Can I get you something to drink?" The girl asked.

"Moscato, please," Dutch replied.

"Would you like it by the glass or bottle?"

"What do you think, dear?" Dutch turned his attention to Susan.

“Best to bring the bottle, miss." Susan nodded to the waitress, smiling kindly.

"Ok. I'll have it sent right out!" The girl handed them each a menu. "I'll be back in a few minutes to check on you guys."

"Thank you, Katie," Dutch said and watched as the waitress walked away. Then, turned his attention to his menu.

Susan thanked the woman and picked up her menu, too. “I don’t know what any of this is...you?”

"My plan is to ask Katie for her recommendation upon her return," Dutch replied as he set his menu down and reached for the basket that the waitress had left in the middle of the table. He undid the cloth and found some type of elongated but skinny bread inside.

Without hesitation, Dutch took a bite and closed his eyes at the buttery herb flavor.

Susan raised a brow and tore off a small piece of the bread, popping it into her mouth with hesitance. She was quick to take another piece and eat that as well.

“This is delicious!”

"Mmmhmmm." Dutch agreed as he indulged.

A moment later, a young man delivered their bottle of wine and two glasses.

Dutch picked up the already uncorked bottle of wine and poured a glass for each of them. He raised his glass to Susan. "To the future. May it bring good _things_."

“And the past, may it be ready for us,” Susan joked, raising her glass to his and clinking them.

Dutch smiled at her and took a generous swallow of his wine. It was semi-sweet, bubbly, and refreshing. He looked to Susan for her reaction.

Initially, Susan started with a small sip, but quickly took a larger one. She shut her eyes and savored the taste, humming her approval.

Pleased, Dutch finished his glass and poured a second. "Better than that cheap whiskey and lousy beer, hm?"

“Certainly--though, nothing beats _good_ whiskey." Susan finished hers and tilted her glass towards him for a second glass.

Without skipping a beat, Dutch obliged and filled her glass. "You are right, m'lady!" He paused to take a drink. "I'd like to sample _good_ whiskey from this century." He took another large swallow.

“Well, I’m sure they’ve got stores for that somewhere ‘round here. We can get some on the way to the hotel.”

"Yes...and cigarettes." Dutch finished his second glass of wine, poured a third, and consumed another piece of bread.

“I’d kill for a good cigarette, right about now.” Susan sipped her wine and set it down. She looked around, admiring the decorations. “We should check the map before we leave so we know where to go.”

"Mmhmmm." Dutch agreed as he took another sip of wine and pulled out the map, unfurling it.

“You see any spot on there?”

Dutch held up a finger to Susan as he swallowed down the rest of his third glass. He considered the map for a moment. "The Brown Jug." He pointed at the map. "It's close...right to the right of...here." He reached for the bottle of wine, again.

Susan slowly moved the bottle away from Dutch, peering over at the map. “Sounds...charmin’...how close is it?”

"Mmm...five minute walk...maybe." Although a bit sour, Dutch took the hint and plucked his glass of water from the table, beginning to nurse it.

Susan nodded approvingly at his switch to water.

“Is--“ She looked up to see the waitress approach.

"Did you guys decide on anything yet?" Katie asked. "I brought you another bottle." She offered to pour it for Dutch, who holds out his glass.

"What do you recommend, dear?" Dutch asked as he lazily took a sip of wine.

"Our lasagna and spaghetti with meat balls are our best sellers! We make our noodles fresh daily. The dishes have the same red sauce. But, if you like fresh mozzarella cheese, I'd recommend the lasagna. Our meatballs are killer though!"

Dutch huffed in amusement. " _Killer_ did you say?"

"They are very good, sir!"

"I'll do that dish with the _killer_ meatballs." Dutch couldn't help but chuckle.

"Ma'am, do you prefer the lasagna or the spaghetti?" The waitress asked Susan.

“I’ll try the...lasagna, please." Susan said as she took the wine glass from Dutch and set it with the first bottle.

"All right! I'll be back in about 15 to 20 minutes!" The waitress went off to a different table.

" _Killer_ ," Dutch mumbled to himself and chuckled. He looked longingly at his wine glass and sighed.

“What’s so funny about that?” Susan raised a brow, sipping her own wine.

"Katie's use of language is...strange. _Killer_ means it tastes good." Dutch took a sip of water and smirked. "I'm a _killer_ , I must taste good, too." He tried to say it with conviction and a straight face, but he ended up laughing and rubbing at his eyes.

“Well--“ Susan cleared her throat, deciding not to pursue that topic. “I think you’ve had too much to drink.”

"I'm tryin' to enjoy myself is all," Dutch defended.

“We ain’t even had dinner yet.” Susan sighed and slid his wine glass back to him. “If you insist.” She ate a bit more bread.

"Insist," Dutch repeated the word with a smirk, but his face turned more serious. "After tonight, everything is about the gang, again." He picked up his wine glass and swirled it.

“That’s what we agreed,” Susan confirmed, sipping her water. “Tomorrow we focus on getting back to _them_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the comments and kudos!


	8. The Dance

As Dutch van der Linde glanced around the restaurant, his ears perked up at a familiar tune in the background. Knowingly, he grinned at Susan Grimshaw.

"Recognize _that_?" Dutch asked, but didn't wait for her response. "It's _La Traviata_ by Pavarotti." He imitated the Italian pronunciation as best as he could.

“I believe I do.” Susan tilted her head and focused on the song. Recognizing a part, she nodded here and there. “You played this one recently, didn’t you?”

Dutch nodded. Then, rested his chin on his fist. "I'd ask you to dance, but it doesn't look like they have the floor for it."

“When has that ever stopped us?” Susan raised a brow, smiling.

At her prompt, Dutch's eyes lit up. "In that case, may I have this dance, Mrs. O'Malley?"

“You may.” Susan chuckled softly. Quickly, she finished her wine, set it down, and stood.

Dutch's smile grew as he took her hand, leading her to the somewhat open area by the bar, where the music was a bit louder and clearer.

"You are beautiful," he complimented kept her hand and placed the other at her waist.

Susan set her free hand on his shoulder, blushing --the root of her blush could not be determined; between the wine and the compliment.

“Why thank you, Mr. O’Malley.” She wasn’t sure why they addressed each other by surname but she enjoyed it; like their own little joke. “Might I say, you’re looking very handsome.”

"Oh, Susan," Dutch sighed as he began to lead her around with steps a tad clumsy and movements just a little off as they swayed together. With each fumble, he chuckled. They, the deficiency in dance, weren't too frequent as to compromise the entirety of the integrity of the dance.

With the occasional misstep, Susan’s movements were intact . She chuckled with Dutch, holding on close enough that any fumble on his part affected her as well. It didn’t bother her, though. It was sort of fun to make little mistakes.

Dutch dared to twirl her. One of the pair fumbled upon the return. Regardless, he pulled her in closer yet and continued swaying like they were the only two in the whole goddamn place.

The familiar music in the air, the woman in his arms, and the wine swimming in his veins...

And without the stress and pressures of the inevitable and the unknown of 1899...

The combination and lack thereof was almost too intoxicating for him. He could feel the exhilaration from it all spreading color to his face. Sweetly, he held her tighter as they danced cheek to cheek.

The classic Italian song, the low lighting, the buzz of life in the room...

The dark-haired man couldn't remember a time when he had felt so contented and nearly as untroubled as he did then.

Ironically enough, he found peace and bliss smack dab in the middle of New York City's civilization and modernization, which were the things he had always tried to fight--resist the most.

Dutch couldn't help the way he felt so high and light--weightless and free--nearly invincible as he continued to move in time with his adored one in his arms. If he could stop time, this would be one of the moments he would choose to relive over and over and over, again.

Because of the overwhelming perfection in the moment Dutch van der Linde, the most wanted outlaw in the old west, couldn't help himself when he whispered in her ear, "I'm gonna marry you."

Susan perked up at the comment, her heart racing. She exhaled slowly, shakily, regaining her composure.

“What’s taking you so long?” Her voice was quiet and soft, the slightest bit teasing.

"You deserve the best," he told her. "I will give you the world--gotta do it right. Just need a little time and money..."

At that moment, he spun her away and then guided her back into his strong arms.

Susan laughed as he spun her, enjoying the dance immensely. She started to wonder if this was a dream, because how could anyone be so happy? Dancing with the one she loves under dim lights and the influence. Is there anything better? Not at all.

“I love you, an’ I can wait for you — I will _gladly_ wait for you," She kissed his cheek.

"Good things come to those who wait, my dear." Her profession of continued adoration and devotion made his chest swell. 

As the last rift of notes faded, he dipped her dramatically and low--surprisingly elegant for his inebriated state—with one hand in hers and the other at the small of her back. Quickly, he captured her lips, before righting them to their fulls heights.

“Oh!” Susan was shocked by the dip. It wasn’t usually a part of their dance. But she loved it. She reciprocated his kiss and held on very tightly as he righted them.

Reluctantly, he moved from her embrace, taking her hand, and brushed his lips across her knuckles.

"Thank you. That was..." He let his words trail off as he got lost in those sea-green eyes. Additionally, the slight cherry that tinged her cheeks was addicting. "...perfect."

As Dutch returned to the world, the room and people come back into focus. He huffed in amusement as he looked around them. Several other couples were dancing still, albeit different techniques. Still, the sight compelled him kiss her, again.

Susan chuckled at the other couples and accepted Dutch's affection, once more. She took a step back and pretended to curtsy,

“Why thank you, Mr. O’Malley.” She moved to grab his hand, again. “Everything is perfect with you.”

"You flatter me, Mrs. O'Malley." He couldn't help the grin on his face or the bit of laughter that slipped. He took her hand in his and dipped his head so slight as if to bow. "Thank you, for having me."

With that, he led her back to their table, pulling her chair out for her, before seating himself.

Susan thanked him again as she took her seat. “That was just lovely.” She filled her glass with wine.

"That it was," he agreed as he finished the bit of wine in his glass and poured himself another. "2009 ain't so--"

"Hey, guys!" The waitress, Katie, interrupted with a tray in her hand. "Looks like you two are having fun, huh?" She placed the lasagna in front of Susan.

“Oh, certainly.” Susan chuckled, moving her wine to make room for the food. “Thank you, miss.”

"Of course, ma'am!" She turned and served Dutch his plate of spaghetti. "Here you are, sir."

"Thank you, Katie." Dutch took another swallow of wine.

"No problem," the waitress replied. "Oh! I forgot!" Her sudden exclamation caused Dutch to startle.

"What is it?" He prompted her with a raised brow.

" I'll be right back. I forgot the parmesan cheese!" She tucked the tray under her arm and left.

"Curious girl, that one," Dutch commented. He held his wine glass to his nose and inhaled.

“What the hella kinda cheese is parmesan?” Susan looked to Dutch for an answer, sipping her wine while she waited.

"I'm sure it's good," he mused.

"Sorry about that!" The waitress appeared at the table looking flustered. "Here you go!" She set the cheese shaker down closest to Dutch.

"It's no trouble," Dutch assured her. He shook a bit onto his spaghetti. Then, he passed it to Susan and turned his attention back to the waitress, who busied herself by refilling their waters.

Abruptly, she set the pitcher down and grabbed a pink rectangular thing from her pocket and stared at it with a smile, but replaced it instantly.

"What was that?" Dutch asks with a raised brow and mirrored smile.

"Sir?" The girl looked flustered, again.

"In your pocket..." He gestured. "What were you looking at?"

"Oh! I'm sorry! I'm not supposed to check my phone at work, but my boyfriend keeps texting me."

Dutch hummed as he considered that information and looked to Susan.

Susan watched with furrowed brows, glancing at Dutch.

“Forgive me, Miss, but--unlike my husband here--I come from a small town with very little technology. Could you explain ‘texting’ to me?”

"Um, sure!" The girl moved closer to Susan. "Basically, texting is sending messages electronically! Kinda like sending a letter but they get it in like, a second." She glanced around before pulling out her phone.

"See? Kyle keeps sending me hearts and cute little phrases. Oh, and sometimes, pictures." She held her phone out to show her. "He's the sweetest." The girl scrolled through her phone.

As he observed the women's conversation, Dutch indulged in his food.

Susan watched with rapt attention, nodding here and there as Katie spoke.

“Well, he sounds like a very sweet man.” She tilted her head slightly, curious. “And...you can send or receive a text from anyone, anywhere?”

"Yeah, as long as you have service!" Katie said. "See these little bars? As long as you have at least one, you're good to text or call people! I've never not had service in the city."

“So.. in the city, you’re almost guaranteed to have ‘service’. But somewhere...rural, would be less likely to have service?”

"Yeah, like we go camping sometimes...and I can't text Kyle, but when I get back in service, I get everything he sent me anyways." Katie looked over her shoulder. "I gotta go or I'm gonna get in trouble. But, if you have any more questions we can talk when I bring your check!"

“Thank you for riskin’ your hide for me, miss,” Susan teased, chuckling.

"Yes, ma'am!" She looked at Dutch. "Sir."

Dutch nodded as he stuffed a hefty forkful of pasta ungracefully into his mouth, losing some of the sauce back onto his plate and chin.

The waitress stifled a laugh as she walked away.

Dutch continued to chew with his cheeks a bit too full. He looked at Susan and shrugged.

Susan watched Dutch with a smirk and a raised brow. She shook her head and grabbed a napkin, wiping away the sauce from his mouth.

“Very classy,” she commented.

He finished chewing and swallowing before answering her. "I'll take that as a compliment." He smiled and pushed the little bit that was left around on his plate. "So...these phones. I'm thinking we should get one--each."

“You think we’ll be here long enough to need one?”Susan took the first bite of her lasagna, pausing to savor it. “Delicious.”

Dutch nodded at her and swayed just a bit from the wine still in his system. "Even if we aren't, it would be good to be able to reach each other," he offered. "Should we be separated or something..." He took a sip of wine as he left his words trail off.

"They could prove useful for reaching any contacts or associates we acquire...like this feller." Dutch produced the horse driver's card.

“You’re right. We’ll likely be here awhile, so perhaps a phone is the best idea. We can look into that tomorrow.” Susan sipped her wine in between bites and sentences. “I’d rather we didn’t need to reach each other, but I suppose we never know what’ll happen.”

"My thoughts exactly," he agreed. Dutch shook his head in a fool's attempt to clear it. "We need money."

“I’ll work on it.” Susan finished her plate and sat back. “I’ll focus on rich lookin’ folk and see what I can find out about those cards.”

Approvingly, Dutch nodded. "The saloons were good sources of info back in..." He let's his words fade as his drunk mind thought about Hosea the most and then his boys. He took a moment to compose himself. "Saw a couple saloons nearby...should check 'em out...tomorrow."

“Sure, we should do that last though.” She poured herself another glass of wine.

“We may not be as successful as Mr. Matthews would be, but I think I’ll be able to elicit information. He always was the best at sniffing out leads. I love that Hosea!" Dutch exclaimed. He took a drink of water."It's true we ain't got his air for theatrics or his nose and means, but I am confident we'll do just fine."

“We shall do better than fine.”

"I admire your faith--"

"Here's your check, sir," the waitress interrupted, handing the bill to Dutch. "I can take cash or card."

Dutch tried to hide his surprise and annoyance at the amount owed. He pulled the required total of bills plus a tip and handed it to her. "Keep the change," he said with a smile.

"Thank you! Feel free to stay and finish your wine. Is there anything else I can do for you guys?" She asksed.

"Susan?" Dutch glances at her.

“I think that will be all. Thank you for everything, miss. You’ve been excellent.”

"Aw, you're sweet... You two have a good night. Come back and see us again sometime!" The waitress took her leave.

Susan finished her glass and stood, gently pulling Dutch out of his seat. “C’mon, this way. I think we’ll go straight to the hotel,”

"I'm fine," he assured her as he staggered. "Good whiskey and cigarettes," he reminded her seriously.

”If you insist.” Susan took the map from Dutch’s pocket and checked the route to the store. She held on to his arm and led him in that direction. “But you best not fall on me.”

"Faith," Dutch said in slight irritation. "Faith, Susan...I said I'll be fine so fine I shall be." He stumbled a bit as she pulled him along.

“You’re gonna have a real headache tomorrow.” Susan watched him as they walked.

"Even so," he drawled. "I had fun tonight."

“I did, too.” Susan hid her amusement at his pure drunkenness. “I can’t wait for a good cigarette to finish the night,”

Dutch smirked as his thoughts wandered to their activities of earlier in the afternoon. "I can think of a few other ways to finish the night..."

Susan laughed and blushed, waving him off. “You’re drunk.”

"Just a little."

“You’re givin’ Uncle a run for his money.”

He scoffed. "Oh, I ain't that bad. That poor soul...is lost--worthless drunk or otherwise..."

“Hm, well, he could walk a mostly straight line still. Can you?” Susan teased, raising a brow at him.

Dutch regarded her suspiciously.

“Well?” Susan kept a serious face, betrayed by the amusement in her eyes.

He furrowed his brow. "I'm torn between wonderin' if you have nefarious intentions and if my efforts or success in such a feat would be rewarded."

Susan stopped walking and turned to him. She pressed herself against him, one hand fiddling with his shirt and the other covering her mouth as she whispered in his ear,

“If it requires effort, you won’t have the energy for a reward.” She pulled away.

Dutch couldn't pretend that her teasing him in such a way didn't affect him. The way she touched him quite literally took his breath away; stole it all from his goddamn lungs. Additionally, her warm breath and words at his ear turned his mind to pulp. She stirred things in him so easily and it frustrated and thrilled him all at once. He blamed the wine.

But, when she went to move away, Dutch nearly growled at the loss of her touch and reached for her wrist.

Susan, having not hit the bottle as hard, was quick to slip away. She started walking ahead, leaving him there. Just to further fluster him, she glanced at him over her shoulder, looking incredibly pleased with herself.

“Rewards are earned,” she drawled.

Her moves, her touch, her voice; it all floored him.

_Rewards are earned._

It sounded like a challenge that he was hell bent on winning. He hurried after her, swaying just a bit, and settled on walking just to the side and several footfalls behind her.

The alcohol still affected him in the way that nothing felt quite real. It all felt like a dream anyway. Being with her in the first place, but then really being with her... Enjoying and indulging in all that civilization and the modern world had to offer.

Together.

It blew his goddamn mind.

"What would you have me do?" He finally asked. He wasn't angry, just bothered and turned on.

“Hmm.”Susan thought about an answer. She could probably tell him to do anything and he’d do it. “I’ll think of something, just give me a minute.”

What was there to do? He could probably do some small task that would prove difficult for someone as drunk as he.

“We could...you could...”She huffed. Why was it so difficult to think of a small task?

“After we leave the store, you...can...you have to...you’ve got to race me back to the hotel. Either on one leg or...without pants!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, commenting, and the kudos!


	9. Excellent Choice

The liquid courage contributed to his sudden cockiness.

"That's all?" Dutch huffed. "If I am successful, and I will be successful, what is my reward, hm?"

“Oh, don’t worry about that. If you can’t walk a line, you can’t win a race,” Susan teased, not looking over her shoulder.

"Susan," he whined.

“Yes?” Susan acted oblivious, smirking to herself.

She had damaged his inebriated mind's ego by her previous comment and he was determined to appeal to her.

"Ain't you a cruel woman," he said with feigned hurt in his voice. "To a man--a man who adores you so?"

“Cruel? Oh, I haven’t the faintest clue what you’re talkin’ ‘bout, hun.” Susan pretended to be completely innocent, though they both know she wasn't. Though, the feign hurt was almost enough to make her falter.

"It ain't kind to lead me on, you know."

“I thought you said you’d win? If you’re going to win, I ain’t leadin’ you on.”

He sighed. "I should have quit while I was ahead."

Susan quietly chuckled, holding the door to the store open for him. “Maybe, maybe not.”

"This place is--look at all the--I've never seen so much..." Dutch made several strides into the store and stood there in awe. He rubbed his hands together. "Where do we start?"

“Find some good whiskey. I’ll find the cigarettes.” Susan ran her hand over Dutch’s shoulder as she passed him, looking for her goal.

"All right..." It took Dutch a moment to snap out of his stupor. He walked down a few aisles and found a vast display of whiskey. The number of choices were so overwhelming that he didn't know where to start. In his slight drunken panic, he settled on a green-labeled Scottish whiskey.

Susan stood in front of the register, staring at a wall covered in different cigarettes. She recognized none of the brands, so she pointed out a random white pack with red decal.

“Two, please. And, cigars.”

The clerk nodded and placed the items on the counter.

Dutch's head cleared a bit more by the time he made his way to the front of the store. He spotted Susan easily.

“You got the wallet, hun?” Susan looked over at Dutch, leaning on the counter.

"Yes...dear." He set his choice of whiskey on the counter.

Susan gave the clerk the money they owed and waited for him to bag the items. She thanked him, grabbed the bag with one hand, and Dutch’s arm with the other. Then, walked out of the store.

Dutch stopped and stared down the dark street. The roads were lined with lamps every so often, cars moved by with their lights, and the moon was large overhead. As he expected, there was less foot traffic at this hour.

Without further hesitation, Dutch pulled his arm away from Susan and slipped his suspenders from his shoulders so that they hung at his hips. Then, rested his thumbs in the waist band of his trousers. He turned to her and grinned mischievously.

Susan was shocked, taking a moment to process. She burst into laughter. “Dutch O’Malley! You--good Lord.” She shook her head and held out her hand out.

"Rewards are

They got a few strange looks from the few people that passed. Dutch was still confident that he was far more decent that some of the folks that walked the streets in 2009.

At Dutch's expense, someone let out a long cat calling whistle.

"Quite the pair we make, hm," Dutch mused as he walked as quickly as he could.

Susan leaned over Dutch’s shoulder and mirrored the whistle, unsure of who she was whistling at, but pleased with herself all the same.

"Guess they saw something they liked." Dutch laughed.

“I know I do.” Susan winked at him.

"Don't tempt me," he warned.

“I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about,” Susan muttered quietly in his ear, playing innocent.

"Whatever you say, my dear..." He nuzzled his face against her neck. He carried her the last hundred yards to the hotel entrance and righted her on the ground."After you..." He held the door open.

Susan stumbled slightly as he set her down. She smiled up at him and headed inside.

Dutch continued his pants-less tirade, strutting past the front desk. The older woman seated there stared at him with her mouth open.

"Good evening, ma'am," he uttered in the lowest tone he could muster and tipped his hat.

Susan laughed and walked back over, grabbing his hand.

“Excuse us, miss.” She nodded to the woman and quickly pulled Dutch toward the elevator.

"I had fun tonight." Dutch pressed the number three button and turned his attention to Susan.

Susan leaned against the wall. “I did, too. So much fun...I feel young again. Like we’re a bunch of kids runnin’ aroun’ like fools.” She smiled sweetly, remembering their night. Her eyes drifted up to meet Dutch’s.

Upon the eye contact, Dutch crowded her space, coming close enough to kiss her, leaning against her, but stopped short.

"Susan, Susan, Susan," he purred. He leaned in closer yet as if to kiss her, letting his nose brush hers, but reached into the bag. Instead, he fumbled around for tobacco.

Susan pulled his hand from the bag and held it up. “Kiss first.”

He smiled and pressed his lips to hers, lightly nipping at her bottom lip as he pulled away and held out his hand expectantly.

Susan leaned forward, following his lips. She huffed and put a pack of cigarettes in his hand.

"Thank. You. My. Sweet." He punctuated each word with a sweat little smooch.

Susan feigned disinterest during the first and second kiss, but by the third she was leaning in for more.

Dutch continued to kiss her, but pulled away when the elevator doors opened.

Susan groaned at the elevator’s intrusion. She pulled the keycard out and went to their door, unlocking and opening it.

Dutch followed her and secured the door behind them. He discarded his hat and boots. "There's a lighter...in my pants pocket," he told her as he sat down in the chair. He tapped the pack of cigarettes against his palm several times while he waited, packing the tobacco.

Susan took the lighter out and tossed it to Dutch, sitting on the bed. She pulled out the whiskey and cast aside the bag.

"Thank you kindly," Dutch purred as he caught the lighter. He pulled two cigarettes out of the pack and set it aside. He place one in his mouth. "Come here, my dear."

Susan set the whiskey on her night stand and crawled across the bed, standing and moving to him when she reached the edge.

He handed her a cigarette, letting his fingers linger on hers as she took it from his grasp.

Susan placed the cigarettes between her lips and leaned forward so he could light it for her.

Forever the gentleman, Dutch lit hers and then his. He set the lighter aside and leaned his head back against the chair and took a long drag, letting his lungs fill up with smoke. He held it in until the feeling was nearly uncomfortable and sighed upon exhale. 

"Excellent choice, my dear."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments feed us. Thank you! 
> 
> -D


	10. Blackwater & Whiskey

Promptly, Susan sat on Dutch’s lap, leaning against him as she took her first hit. She held it just long enough to fully savor it before letting go. “I missed these.”

"I missed you," Dutch said as he regarded her, smoke rolling out of his mouth, obscuring his facial features.

Susan took her eyes off the cigarette and looked Dutch over. She captured his lips, ignoring the smoke--or rather embracing it.

As their lips continued to move against each other, he relaxed further; legs spread wide, and free hand dangling off the arm of the chair. Dutch leaned into the kiss. His contribution was wet, sloppy, and a bit lazy.

One of her hands slid up and over his shoulder to rest at the back of his neck, and the other cupped his face. She started off neat, but quickly descended into the same sloppiness as Dutch--only far less lazy. Pulling her legs into his lap, she sighed against his lips.

Although he was still under the influence, Dutch couldn't help as his mind wandered while he kissed her...

When he was with her like _this_ , he couldn't for the life of him understand why he had cast her aside in his youth. Her faith, loyalty, love, and trust was unwavering--even after all he had done and failed to do--after all this time...

Maybe he was too blinded by renewed infatuation to see that they both still retained their flaws and tendencies they had in their youth. Regardless, he was ever confident in this--in her--in this moment--sure as the sun rises each day and sets each night.

In this very moment, he had convinced himself that she was his destiny--part of of it anyway--part of a bigger plan.

"All these years..." His voice was jovial. "All the time we spent, the things we done, and I still can't understand for the life of me why you are still wearing pants."

“All that thinkin’ you was doin’, and it was about pants? I find that hard to believe, but I’ll oblige.” Susan quirked a brow, smiling at him with amusement. She shuffled about, shimmying off her pants and tossing them.

He laughed and took another drag. He was buzzing, buzzing something fierce. "My darlin', my sweetheart, my dear, do you not feel more free now than you did a moment ago?"

“The point is to feel free?”

Dutch shook his head as he rolled the cinged cigarette filter between his index finger and thumb.

"The point is being free in the land of liberty. Here we are in center of civilization with all their laws and rules...and..." He pauses as he loses his train of thought. "I am a seeker, Miss Grimshaw. A seeker of freedom... I want you to feel free when you are with me!" He grins at her. "How about that whiskey?"

Susan stood and went to grab the whiskey, bringing it back over. She handed it to him, reaching into her shirt when he took it.

“And, free I shall feel." Her brassiere dropped out of her shirt and she sat on his lap once more.

"Very good," he purred as he took the bottle from her hands. "Freedom, good company, and good whiskey is all a man can hope for.”

“I’m sure there’s a bit more he could hope for,” Susan teased, curling up in his lap like some house cat. She rested her head on his shoulder, waiting for him to open the bottle.

“Perhaps, you’re right,” he agreed and brushed his lips against her forehead. Next, Dutch brought the bottle eye level and studied the label in the dimly lit room.

“Fifteen year reserve, hm? Let's see if this Johnnie Walker fellow knows what he's doin' with his distillin'.” Dutch reached around her with both arms, his biceps pulling her closer to his chest. As he unscrewed the cap, he placed sloppy kisses to her neck. “Ladies, first.”

“Anythin’ is better than what we had back at camp.” Susan sighed at his kisses, tilting her head to the side. She eagerly grabbed the bottle and took a swig. The burn in her throat and chest were complete and utter bliss, enough to rival a good cigarette.

As soon as the bottle left her lips, he grabbed the it, but took the liberty of sampling the whiskey from her lips instead. Eagerly, he plunged his tongue into her mouth. The taste was strong, beautiful, smooth, and warm; much like the woman in his arms.

"Perfection," he hummed as he pulled away from her and took a generous swig out of the bottle. A dribble ran down his chin.

Susan hummed her approval at his _‘sampling’_ , drawing towards him as he pulled away.

Whiskey and cigarettes truly are deliciously addictive, but they’re nowhere near as good as the man holding her. That is one addiction she cannot and will not quit--not that she’ll quit smoking or drinking either. She wiped the dripping whiskey off his chin and licked it off her finger.

"Are you teasin' me again or givin' a preview of things to come?" He furrowed a brow, doing his best to look perplexed, but couldn't help the smile that seemed to be a constant on his lips recently.

“Who says I can’t tease you with a preview?” Susan drawled, smirking at him. She grabbed the bottle back and took a rather large drink.

"Is that what this is?" He fished another cigarette out of the pack and lit it. "Figure you just get a kick outta gettin' me all riled up. You plannin' on takin' advantage of me in my... disadvantaged state?"

Susan chuckled.“Takin’ advantage ain’t any fun if you’re not riled.” She plucked the cigarette from his hand and took a hit, holding the smoke for a moment before exhaling and returning it to his fingers.

"Fair enough," he mused. He took another drag and exhaled through his nose. "Would you want to live in a city like this? Back in 1899, I mean. If we could get some money and shake the law..." He closed his eyes and laid his head back.

Susan laid her head on his chest, thinking. “Maybe, but.. I thought you despised cities.” She took a small drink of the whiskey.

"Oh, but I do. I _detest_ them." His voice was casual as he smoked. "...the putrid air, incessant noise, rule of law, and lack of...space."

“Then why would you want to move to the city?” Susan furrowed her brows, turning her head to look up at him.

"I didn't say I wanted to. I asked if you wanted to, my dear." He continued to leisurely smoke with his head leaned back and eyes closed.

“Right, but I wouldn’t want to. You’d be miserable.”

"You're right," he said slowly, wrapping an arm around her and resting his hand on her naked thigh. "I am quite miserable already." He smirked.

“Oh, please. You’re the spittin’ image of joyful.” Susan shuddered at the warmth of his hand on her cold thigh. Her tone softened. “I’m happy being wherever you are.”

By now, the buzzing in Dutch's brain mostly settled to a low hum, but the nicotine high kept him weightless—carefree, and alert.

“The whiskey is good, but the company is even better,” he offered with a shrug and found himself rambling, again. “Always with me...always faithful, loyal, without doubt…” Idly, he traced random shapes into her skin with his calloused fingers.

“You’ve never given me reason to doubt...things may get real bad sometimes, but you always see us right. Always...you’ve saved my hide quite a few times...” She’d begun to ramble, so she tried to wrap it up. “You’re a good man.. And only a fool would doubt you.”

Susan began to relax, sighing softly. Between his touch and the whiskey, she felt safe, and heavy.

"I wish the gang--the others saw it the way you do," he breathed as he stubbed out his cigarette and looked to the ceiling. “I…I…” He sighed.

As gently as he could, he removed her from his lap, setting her in the chair, and paced to the window on the opposite side of the room. He lit another cigarette, and moved the curtain enough so he could see out. Then, placed his hand on his hip, staring at the lit streets and the cars moving by. He glanced to the sky, but the city lights were far too bright and obscured the stars.

Without the racket of camp, the gang to worry about, and the pressures of being on the run, he allowed himself _this_ moment.

“I messed up in Blackwater.” His tone was heavy with regret; the same way his shame weighted down his shoulders and his chest.

Susan watched him, her brows furrowed. She stood and came up behind him, wrapping her arms around his torso.

“Everyone messes up. I know that better than anybody...but...any one of you could have been the one to mess up.”

At her touch, Dutch stiffed, but continued to stare out the window. He took a long drag before he spoke, again. "I made a goddamn fool of myself..."

“Everyone messes up, Dutch. We’ve all done it. All made a-a fool of ourselves. But we’re just people.”

For a long moment, Dutch was quiet. As he smoked, he mulled it over and over in his head.

Finally, when he spoke, his voice cracked. "Davey's dead. Mac and Jenny..." He sighs. "John was shot, too. I...I don't know what happened to Sean."

Susan sighed, dropping her arms from around him. She moved a few steps away to light a cigarette of her own.

“Davey ain’t dead...he was still alive when we...maybe he still is.”

Who was she fooling? He was knocking on Death’s door when they’d disappeared and his condition certainly wasn’t getting any better. But, she had to stay optimistic...losing so many people...she had to stay optimistic. Had to hope everything was going to be okay. Because if they lost all hope...

Susan sighed and ran a tired hand down her face.

"Don't kid yourself,” he suddenly snapped. “We both know that wounds like his--gut shots ain't viable.”

Oh, how he regretted it as soon as he said it because the way she's looking at him now…

It wounds.

It hurts.

It kills.

Desperately, he felt compelled to reassure and comfort her, but he was struggling with his own uncertainty and guilt; the kind of mental groping he ain’t use to. It rendered him worthless. He's afraid because he felt himself slipping into a dark abyss—like the world was closing in on him.

It is almost like he was back in 1899 and the law, Pinkertons, and the stress of the changing time was looming over him. Hell, it was all weighing him down and he was drowning. It felt like cinderblocks had been strapped to his chest, he'd been thrown overboard, and he just couldn't breathe, let alone think, and then he broke—snapped. It's been happening for a while now.

Hosea noticed—told him he was losing his head.

Arthur sensed it.

Molly and her questions and accusations...and support...

It's bad enough when they doubt him.

But, when he doubts himself…

For a moment, he’s thankful that he ain't in 1899. Because he felt himself slipping, again... He wonders if this, being here in 2009, will be enough to keep his head.

And yet, he has to be strong and certain. Needs to be. Has to be. For them—the gang. For her.

Dutch couldn't meet her eyes. Not yet. He had to compose himself. Had to. He finished his cigarette, while forcing himself to breathe even and slow. He turned to her as he began to unbutton his shirt. His fingers needed something to do.

"Blackwater wasn't nothing’s nice. Things went bad. We lost folk, but those of us who survived will keep on survivin’ and keep pushin'.” The normal bravado of his voice returned. “We'll go back for them and we'll keep running. We'll get money; a lot of money. Then, we'll secure safe passage and get on a boat, if we have to, and sail to Australia or Tahiti. Mark my words, we'll get away. All of us. Together."

Susan didn’t bother hiding the hurt in her eyes, in her heart. All the faith she gave him... The loyalty... Trust... And, he couldn’t give even a fraction of that.

She put out her cigarette, feeling all too sober, and walked away from him to take a seat in the chair.

“Oh, but you’ll just make another mistake. And, then we’ll all die. Because our wounds ‘won’t be viable," she snapped, her voice dripping with a venomous sarcasm.

A pounding headache began to intrude on her mind. Her thoughts filled with images of Micah holding a gun. With a sharp pain in her gut. With Dutch shouting something.

She pinched the bridge of her nose, hoping for some relief. She must be losing it.

Dutch clenched his jaw at her words. His hands dropped from his open shirt to his sides and became fists.

_Oh, he's trying. Because he doesn't want to damage this any further. He's trying so hard to remain calm. But, that's been getting harder and harder to do, too._

But then, he saw her eyes; the hurt and sadness reflecting there and it's his fault--just another product of his recent failures and then she won't even look at him.

"For the safety and preservation of the gang,” he said it through gritted teeth. “I did what was necessary and I will continue to do what is necessary to ensure that we survive."

“If you did what was necessary, they wouldn’t be dead!” Her anger grew with the headache and there was no end in sight. The images and feelings intruded and twisted her thoughts. She inhaled shakily as the pain became more apparent.

“Jenny! Mac! Davey! Who’s next? I doubt the blood will end with them!” Her eyes watered at the thought of more deaths. Who would she allow harm to come to next?

She had rattled him.

Although her words stung and threatened his ego, he studied her—really regarded her for a long moment as he considered his response.

Something was off. He couldn't recall a time when she would speak to him in such a way. Then, he noticed that she looked as if she was in real physical pain.

A sense of dread gained him a sense of déjà vu. His intrigue was peaked.

Immediately, Dutch came to stand in front of her, knelt down, and rested his hands on her lower thigh and knees. “What did you see?”

Susan tensed under his touch, turning her head away from him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

"What did you see?" He asked a second time with more urgency, but he didn't give her time to answer. "It's happening to you now, too, isn't it? Remember the trolley? I suffered a sudden headache that came with thoughts, feelings, and things that seemed very real to me. What did you see? What did you feel?"

Susan hesitated. Her anger wavered.

“I.. I saw Micah with his guns out...you were yellin’ somethin’, I don’t know what. I couldn’t see. I just saw Micah and some...nasty lookin’ men...” She shook her head, recalling made the headache worse.

“I had a pain in my gut an'.. I think I was falling..” The memory left a nasty taste in her mouth.

Too say he was troubled was an understatement. His heart felt as though it would beat out of his chest. To better digest her words, he stood, paced away from her, and crossed his arms.

"I think we are seeing things--things that happened or will happen. My vision, if you can even call it that, Young Lenny, Arthur, and I got set up and I sustained a head injury, but I survived." He moved to sit next to her on the bed.

"And you..." His voice broke so slight. He turned back to her then and tried to take her hands in his. "Sounds like you got shot..."

Susan allowed him that touch, still not making eye contact. “That’s... ridiculous...”

She wanted to doubt, but she believed him. Nothing makes sense anymore, so anything can happen. And if it happened to both of them then it wasn’t her going crazy.

"I'm not gonna let it happen," he assure.

“You can’t promise anything. Things go wrong all the time...and...those wounds aren’t viable...” Susan’s voice wavered on her last sentence. She leaned against him, holding his hand tightly.

"We have been afforded the chance to change the future--forge our own destiny." His free hand moved to rub her back in an attempt to soothe.

"The past already happened, but once we leave here and go back, things is gonna be different. Like we already discussed, we can find out things now and use it to our advantage." He pulled her in close and held her. "I will do my best to do right by you and them--the gang. Things may go wrong, but we will be careful and we will possess knowledge." He held her tighter still.

“You’re right...always are...” Susan sighed shakily as the headache and visions faded. “I shouldn’t have doubted you.”

She relaxed under his touch. Things can go wrong at any moment - even with their knowledge - but at least he’d be by her side, holding her hand, when they do go wrong...except in the vision...but that won’t happen. He won’t let it.

Dutch didn't say anything for a moment--just held her and rubbed her back in an attempt to soothe. "We've still got a little time left for us today. What do you want to do with it?"

“Jus’...Jus’ hold me?” She was hesitant to ask, fearful that that wouldn’t be a good enough way to finish the night. But that was all she had the energy for. The day’s events had left her both physically and emotionally tired.

"Want to lay down?"

Susan nodded. She’d begun to get a bit cold, especially her legs.

"All right..." He gathered her in his arms and navigated them both backwards. He laid on his back and pulled her against his side and onto his torso.

Susan hooked one leg around his, resting her head and hand on his chest. The quiet, rhythmic thump of his heart and his warm embrace were enough to lull her in to a sleepy haze.

“I love you,”

"I know...I know." Dutch wrapped his arms around her just a little tighter. "You and me...we're gonna be just fine."

“We’ll be amazing," Susan mumbled, drifting off to sleep.

As he savored the weight and feel of her body on his, Dutch just hummed in agreement . He wondered how many more times he would get to hold her like this and it just be the two of them--without the rest of the burdens and responsibilities that came with being the leader of the Van der Linde Gang.

Troubled as he was, Dutch knew sleep was a ways off yet. He believed her vision to be true just like his own and he hated it.

Regarding Blackwater, he hadn't even confessed what he had wanted to. It wasn't the right time. Maybe there never would be a right time.

Some things are better left unsaid. He knew that.

But the problem was...sometimes when Dutch closes his eyes, he's back on that ferry, feels the familiar weight of his revolver in his hand, sees that girl's face; skull and brain matter splattered and matted on the—

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback is always welcomed here!


End file.
